


our youth is fleeting

by amadgirlwithabox



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, I'll add the warnings in those chapters, Raven is the best, also remember kane's mother the one that had a tree on space well she's important here, clarke is just my whole life, foster home au, its overall happy but they're foster kids so some shitty things are gonna come up, lexa plays basketball she's cool, octavia's problematic but trying hard, ok listen the happy part was a lie bUT there are happy times i promise, theyre sad kiddos but they're working hard and deserve love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-05-20 12:17:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 34,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6005556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amadgirlwithabox/pseuds/amadgirlwithabox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Snobby girl or not, she's pretty hot.” Raven smirks. “Right, Lexa?”</p><p>“I didn't notice,” Lexa doesn’t bother to look up from the book she's reading.</p><p>“Right,” Raven pauses her game and nudges Octavia’s shoulder, “cause not noticing totally means staring at her ass without blinking while she goes upstairs.”</p><p>Or the foster home au in which everything is a mess, bickering is the norm and idiots fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

**Chapter 1: define your destination (there's so many different places to call home)**

 

 

It's subtle, really. The tree is small but has too many leaves to count. Maybe not that many, but once Lexa began to count them out of boredom and stopped at thirty because she felt too pathetic to continue. The tree has been at Vera’s house longer than Lexa herself has, and she doesn't recall a single change. Until this morning. For the first time in Lexa’s life, a leaf fell from Vera’s previous tree. It had been Raven who noticed at first, and Octavia quickly grabbed the fallen leaf away from the tree and into the dumper before Vera could notice.

Lexa wants to think that it was an excessive reaction, she really wants to. After all, it's just a leaf out of the more than thirty that the tree has. But there's this sort of understanding between her, Raven and Octavia, as the three of them carefully search the tree for any more unhealthy signs, wishing that everything is fine with it.

Bellamy comes downstairs, shaking them back into reality. He's got his hair up in a small bun and he’s wearing an old sleeveless t-shirt, apparently unaffected by the February weather. He leans on the broom he's holding and fixes them with a narrowed glance.

“I see the three of you are competing for the ‘Sneaking off cleaning duties’ award this lovely Sunday morning.”

Octavia takes the tree and puts it back on its table by the window. “Hey, I was just being thoughtful,” she says. “Seeing as how much you love cleaning, I decided to let you clean our room. Maybe I should get the ‘Best sister in the world’ award.”

Bellamy grabs and apple and takes a bite. “It was your turn to clean the bathroom. Oh, wait, let me guess, my thoughtful sister decided to leave that to me too, seeing as how much I enjoy cleaning her shit, right?”

“Exactly,” says Octavia. She walks up to him, stealing his apple and taking a big bite before returning it.

“Chew with your mouth shut, Octavia,” he clenches his nose when she starts chewing with a wider mouth and much slower just to spite him. “Gross.”

The horn of a car saves them from further scolding on Bellamy’s end.

“That must be Vera with the groceries,” says Lexa.

“I bet she bought the entire supermarket to keep the rich girl from starving,” Raven says sarcastically, but she gets up and follows Lexa to go help the woman anyway.

Between the four of them, carrying the bags inside and settling everything in its place takes less than five minutes. The difficult thing, Vera knows far too well, is keeping them from eating the groceries as they are at it. No matter how many days pass, Vera never ceases to be amazed at how much food these four people eat.

“Take it easy,” she tells them. “It wasn't easy finding a supermarket on a Sunday to do last minute shopping.”

“Should have planned ahead then,” Raven sticks her tongue out at her.

Vera rolls her eyes and cocks an eyebrow, but before she can say anything, Lexa interrupts her.

“We had some celebrating to do last night,” she shrugs sheepishly. “Yesterday's match was the best in all the season.”

“It was the best in the whole year,” Octavia corrects. “We were awesome. Awesome people deserve awesome dinner.”

“And what do humble people get?” asks Bellamy with an amused smirk on his lips.

“Cleaning duties, apparently,” Raven whispers into Octavia’s ear, but purposely louder enough so that Bellamy can hear it.

Octavia grins at her, and Raven’s stomach is filled with that too familiar warmth once again. Even Lexa smiles a little when Bellamy puffs.

“Okay,” Vera claps her hands. “Serious talk: we've got a new guest staying with us for a few months. You know how we treat new people. I hope you'll all behave.”

“I mean,” says Octavia, “It's not like she's a kid in the system or anything. If she's Kane's step daughter she'd probably be able to feed the whole system so I don't understand why she's staying with us.”

“She is not Kane’s step daughter,” Lexa corrects her for the tenth time. “Kane’s wedding is not until the summer. And besides, his girlfriend is wealthier than him.”

“Yeah, so point proven,” Octavia ignores her, “What's a snobby rich girl doing with us?”

“That's enough, O,” Vera says. “Abby will be accompanying Marcus on his business trips for the next two months and I offered her daughter a place to stay because, just like you, she's a teenager and has classes that can't be left behind.”

“You're right, Mrs K,” Bellamy places a hand on the woman's shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll behave.”

Octavia purses her lips but nods along with Raven and Lexa.

“So,” Raven grins, poking Octavia in the stomach, “wanna get your ass kicked at Mario Kart?”

 

* * *

 

 

“No, Monty, it's not just a foster kid. Four,” says Clarke, holding her phone between her shoulder and her ear as she folds her school shirts. “Kane's mother lives with four foster kids. I will be staying with my mother’s boyfriend’s mother and with her four foster kids for two months.”

“Well,” comes Monty’s voice from the other end of the line, “at least your mother didn't make you change schools. So, you know, bright side.”

“Totally,” she says sarcastically, “now I only have to spend half an hour everyday on public transport in my school uniform to get to school, and half an hour to get back.”

“But you still get to see me everyday.”

“Honey,” Clarke speaks with that too sickly-sweet voice she knows Monty hates, “as much as I can't wait to see your beautiful face tomorrow, it doesn't make up for any of this shit.” She hears Monty begin to protest and she's quick to interrupt him, “Wait, I haven't told you the last part, yet. Remember my mum promised me I could spend two weeks with her on the Maldives in March for the hell she's making me live through?”

“Um, yeah?”

“Well,” Clarke licks her lips, “now she's narrowed it down to just one week. She says, and I quote “The middle of the school year is not a time to escape school, Clarke. You've got grades to maintain if you want to make something out of your life”, like, can you imagine the level of bullshit? She seems to have forgotten that she took me out of school a whole month last year because she felt like having a bonding mother-daughter moment in China…”

“Yeah, I totally get it, it's not like you've already been to the Maldives three times, how dare she.”

And yes, Clarke knows that she’s being complaining for the past half hour and that she sounds like a snobby rich shitty person. But hey, she's probably already got the label of “snobby rich ass girl” reserved for herself in that foster home, so really, she couldn't care less.

“Since when is the definition of best friend someone who makes you feel like a shitty person when you're being a shitty person?”

“Oh,” Monty snorts, “don't mind me, I actually missed Brat Clarke a lot. She's my fave.”

Clarke smirks, “Forgetting about Drunk Clarke already?”

“Please,” Monty scoffs, and Clarke can practically picture the way he's rolling his eyes as if he was right in front of her. “Brat Clarke can and will, if the opportunity presents itself, get drunk. And that, my friend, is gold.”

Just then, there's a knock on her bedroom door, which is opened by Clarke's mother a second later.

“Are you mostly done?” asks Abby, frowning at the mess of clothes on Clarke's bed. “Kane will be here in twenty minutes.”

“Sorry, Monty. I have to go, text you later.” Clarke hangs up and tosses the phone onto the bed. She grabs a lacy and most definitive expensive bra and turns to her mother, “Oh, sorry. I was just not sure if Fleur of England underwear would be a little too much to take to a foster home because maybe we should make a little stop at Target so that I can buy myself a whole new closet.”

Abby’s mouth twitches, but nothing in her composure betrays her lack of patience.

“Clarke, you do know that Vera is Marcus’s mother, right?” she asks. “Those kids are completely safe, money wise. I'm not sending you to an orphanage.”

“Wow, rude.” If only Monty could be here right now, Clarke thinks, she would surely get rid of the snobby thing for once and for all. “Look, mum,” she sighs defeatedly, “I'm happy that things are working out for you and Kane, okay? But this whole ‘hey, let's stay with your sort of step grandmother with whom you’ve barely spoken to before and just happens to have four foster kids under her care’ thing, you can't expect me to just accept something like that. It's like my life has suddenly turned into a poorly written movie or something.”

“You're right.” Abby admits softly. “I'm sorry that I had to put you in this position.”

“That doesn't mean you're calling the trip off, does it?”

“No,” Abby says, “but I do promise, and I mean the promise part, that if after a week you feel like it's too much and you can't handle it, I'll come back. Marcus will understand. Just try for one week, if the answer is still the same then, I'll be back. You have my word.”

* * *

 

_so breaking news_  
_the house is actually quite big_  
_it's even got a decent pool and a small basketball court_  
_and i dont have to share my bedroom thank god_  
_i do have to share the bathroom tho_

_See? Already feeling at home_

_no listen_  
_that's only the good part_  
_ive been here for an hour and they_  
_havent stopped whispering abt me_

_Have you tried talking to them tho_

_oh_  
_well not yet im upstairs unpacking_  
_with vera_

_You just said they were whispering_  
_about you??_

_yes_  
_i can feel them_

_Ok I believe you_

_Monty pls help me you owe me_

_Ok_  
_Let's see_  
_Tell me about them?_

_yes ok_  
_so theres this guy who looks_  
_too old to be a foster kid_  
_I didnt ask tho_

_Proud of you_

_also his sister_  
_i think she wants to fight me and normally id say_  
_bring it on bitch_  
_but she's kinda scary_  
_and look who's talking so??_

_and theres a girls i think ive met somewhere_  
_but idk_  
_she seems cool tho_

_and the last one is kinda rude_  
_she didn't even look at me once_  
_just kept reading Momo_  
_should have spoiled it to her_

_Wait she was reading one of_  
_your faves books??_  
_Are you in love with her yet?_

_omg monty shut up_  
_im not 13 anymore ffs_

_Is she pretty?_

_haha in fact_  
_thats the worst part_  
_they're like super hot_  
_all four of them_  
_like incredibly attractive???_

_Nice_

 

“So,” Vera comes into Clarke’s new room, holding some clean towels. “You’re all settled in, then?”

Clarke gives her a short nod, “Thank you for helping me and showing me around. And for letting me stay here.”

“Nonsense,” Vera dismisses her with a flick of her hand, “you’re more than welcome to stay for as long as needed. There’s enough room for everyone. Besides, the kids could use a little bit of a new face around.”

Clarke wonders the veracity of the statement, but knows better than to voice her doubts.  
“Still,” she says, “I know you’ve got a lot of responsibilities. So thank you.”

“Okay. So how about we go downstairs and you get to know everyone better? I’m sure you will all get along just fine.”

Clarke's not as sure, but she hopes for the best and follows the woman anyway.

* * *

 

 

“I’ve seen her before, I swear.” Raven says, fingers pressing buttons quickly on her controller and eyes fixed on the TV. “I just don't know when or where.”

Octavia frowns, she opens a bag of chips and grabs a handful. “What can you possibly know the snobby rich girl from?” she asks before stuffing her mouth with chips.

“Octavia,” Bellamy lifts his eyes from his laptop to throw her a stern glance, “don't be judgemental.”

“Bellamy,” she mocks, pushing his feet off her lap because now she has decided that they feel gros, “don't be a dick.”

He merely rolls his eyes at her and continues studying.

“Snobby girl or not, she's pretty hot.” Raven smirks. “Right, Lexa?”

“I didn't notice,” Lexa doesn’t bother to look up from the book she's reading.

“Right,” Raven pauses her game and nudges Octavia’s shoulder, “cause not noticing totally means staring at her ass without blinking while she goes up the stairs.”

There’s the faintest of blushes on Lexa’s face, but other than that the girl doesn't even bat an eye. Raven just throws a pillow at her because she's infuriating.

“Hey, admitting it hurts no one.” She continues with her teasing. “I can go first: Blondie’s hot as fuck.”

Octavia scolds and grabs what must be her fifth handful of chips in a minute, “She's not.”

“Yes, she is,” Bellamy leaves his book on the coffee table and leans in to steal some chips from his sister.

“What,” Octavia keeps her hand as far from him as physically possible, pushing him away from her bag, “do you like girls my age now?”

Having the bag at mere inches from her face, Raven is quick to seize the opportunity and sneaks it off from Octavia. “Please,” she says, “he likes everything that moves.”

Octavia protests at the loss. She tries to take them back but Raven puts a hand on her face and pushes her away. That’s far from enough to even begin to discourage Octavia, who gets on her knees on the couch and jumps on Raven. She half straddles her, careful not to put her weight on the girl’s bad leg. She finally manages to get her hand inside the bag only to find it empty. She glares at Raven, who is staring at her in amusement.

However, with the pressure that comes with having a pretty girl lying on top of her and staring at her in such a fierce way, Raven decides to take her fist full of the last chips to Octavia’s mouth, which opens immediately.

“Mrs K is not going to like it when she finds out we've already eaten half of the snacks she bought this morning,” Bellamy says.

Lexa snorts, finding it cute that he tries to blame the obvious clench of his jaw in the lack of snacks rather than in Raven’s hand resting on top of Octavia’s thigh.

“If my memory is correct,” Octavia says as she jumps off Raven, missing his relieved breath, “you ate great part of those.”

“We can always blame it on sweet child Lexa,” Raven shrugs.

Lexa glares at her, grabbing the pillow Raven tossed at her and returning the favour. The only thing keeping them from starting a pillow fight at that moment is Vera and snobby rich blondie coming back downstairs.

“Believe me, Clarke,” Vera rolls her eyes, “they usually behave better than this.”

Hearing the girl’s name for the first time, the question in Raven’s head is finally answered.

“That’s it! Clarke! I knew you rang a bell!” she says, “You're that girl I made out with at Murphy’s party!”

Clarke looks at the girl. Murphy’s party was two months ago and she goes to a new party every weekend, she barely remembers that night. Although there really is something quite familiar about this girl. Studying her quickly, she discovers the brace on one of her knees. “Yeah. Raven right?” She asks.

Of course she remembers her, Clarke thinks, who can forget someone who made her own brace from scratch, going against nearly everything a doctor would recommend? She makes a mental note to introduce this girl to her mother some day.

“See, guys?” Raven smirks, taking her hands to the back of her head and leaning back on the couch. “Girls everywhere remember my name.”

Octavia pushes her hard and scoots closer to her brother. “What were you doing in Murphy’s party, anyway?” She asks. “I thought he got adopted by some rich ass crazy dude.”

That catches Lexa's attention, who sets her book on the coffee table, though having given up on reading it a while ago. “You mean Thelonious Jaha?” She quirks a brow, “The one who wrote that “Reaching the City if the Light” poor excuse for a book?”

Clarke feels her heart clench on her chest when she hears that name and thinks of the third page in that book. Out of instinct, she reaches to put a hand over her left side, the action soothing her instantly.

“He's not crazy.” She says, feeling less confident when she discovers every pair of eyes in the room watching her. “He's just been out of it recently.”

Octavia raises her eyebrows at her. “That seems pretty crazy to me.”

In an attempt to soften the tension, Vera places a hand on Clarke’s shoulder. “Octavia,” She says softly, “don't speak ill of people you don't know.”

“Like she knows him?” Octavia scolds, nodding her head at Clarke in defiance.

“Well, as a matter of fact,” Clarke licks her lips and wonders why this girl she doesn't know at all seems to hate her so much, “I do.”

Octavia snorts humorlessly. “Yeah, I forgot everyone knows everyone at snobby rich valley.”

“That's enough, O.” Bellamy fixes her with a sharp look.

The two siblings hold eye contact for a moment before Octavia suddenly gets up from the couch, mumbling over her shoulder as she disappears upstairs.

Clarke watches as the boy tries to follow his sister but stops when the girl who had barely been paying attention gets up and says, “It's okay. I'll handle her,” then leaves after Octavia.

She can feel the knot in her throat and the sinking feeling in her stomach. She's not been here for two whole hours and they already hate her. She didn't need this scene to know that this was a bad idea. She curses her mother and she curses Kane and she curses Kane’s work and-

“I'm sorry about that,” the boy comes up to her and interrupts her train of thought, “you didn't do anything wrong. Octavia's just that way with people she doesn't know. She'll warm up to you soon, though.” He reassures her with a kind smile. “I'm Bellamy Blake.”

There are crinkles by his eyes as he smiles and when Clarke shakes the hand he has offered her, it feels too big in comparison to her own. She smiles back at him.

“Clarke Griffin.”

The girl, Raven, appears from behind him and settles her elbow on his shoulder, even though it's nearly higher than her head. “The last name’s Reyes,” she says. “And I'll offer a hand but seeing as we've already done more than hand holding…”

Vera puts her hands on her hips. “Raven, stop making Clarke uncomf-”

A sudden ring interrupts the woman. “Oh, that must be the oven. Clarke, dear, your mother tells me you enjoyed my lasagna?”

* * *

  
The lasagna is good. So good that Clarke can almost forget the death daggers silently being thrown at her from Octavia, just opposite where she’s sitting on the table. Almost. She takes a sip of water, mainly to clear the awkwardness in her throat away.

Vera is sitting at the end of the table, on Clarke’s right side. She compliments the woman on the food, though she's quickly dismissed with a kind smile. It makes Clarke wonder how much work Vera has put in this safe space she's created, because the woman must be at least sixty-five, and it's not that Clarke thinks she's old, but looking after four teenagers who eat as much as these people (Lexa, who seems to be the one that eats the less, is already on her second portion), can't be any easy.

“So, Clarke,” Raven’s voice brings her back into reality. “Which school do you go to? Do you wear one of those uniforms with tie and knee socks?”

One of the greatest thing so far since she's been here is Raven’s harmless flirting. Every sentence the girl has spoken to her has been in a friendly flirtatious way that Clarke can't help but feel fond of. Yes, they did make out at a party; and yes, Raven’s really pretty and nice. But it's Octavia’s hand disappearing under the table while shooting Clarke yet another death glare that makes Clarke realise Octavia’s unreasonable hatred towards her must have a cause after all.

“Mount Weather,” she says. “So that's a yes to the uniform part.”

Raven grins wickedly at her. “Nice.” She occupies herself with stealing some cheese from Octavia’s plate before she seems to remember something and turns to Clarke again, eyes curious, “Wait, isn't Mount Weather the school with like, a hundred iMacs in on classroom?”

Clarke can't help but roll her eyes at hearing the popular misconception that has always been around about her school. “No, it's actually just forty-three. And before you ask, no, we don't have a jacuzzi to chill out on study hours. The swimming pool is climatised but it definitely doesn't have any bubbles on it.”

Judging by the expressions she's met with, she guesses it probably wasn't a good idea to refer to her school facilities with such nonchalance. Really, she's not trying to sound like a typical rich teenager, because one, she knows she isn't one; two, she is going to be living with four foster kids for two months and things are already weird enough; and three, she really isn't a snobby rich girl, she's just used to talking about these things like it’s nothing with her regular friends because for Clarke and her regular friends, it's really nothing.

“Such a shame Mount Weather is like half an hour bus ride from here, though,” says Octavia, even though her sickly-sweet smile and her tone let Clarke know that the girl doesn't feel sorry for her at all.

“Hey, maybe I could give you a ride.” Bellamy chews quickly an mouthful of lasagna and swallows it all down under Vera’s disapproving stare. “I work at a coffee shop just a few streets from your school. You start classes at eight, right? Car ride is just a bit more than fifteen minutes even when there is traffic.”

His mouth is stained with lasagna, but that doesn't make his smile any less endearing. It's such a difference, his sweet behaviour from his sister’s unapproachable one. Clarke wonders where the siblings meet and drift apart.

“Yeah, I'd like that. Thank you.”

The rest of the dinner is mainly quiet. Now that Raven and Octavia seem no longer interested in anything other than each other, Vera and Bellamy are the only ones making small talk, getting Clarke to participate every now and then.

But Clarke’s mostly intrigued by Lexa, who's sitting on the other end of the table and hasn't spoken a word in the twenty minutes they've been having dinner. No one seems to be surprised by this fact, so Clarke guesses the girl is just as quiet as she's pretty. And no, she's not even going to be embarrassed by that thought, because she is beautiful. Hell, the four of them are, but there's something quite appealing about Lexa, and it makes Clarke feel like she's the main character in a film whose love interest is the mysterious and broody rude character. Really, now that she thinks about it, Lexa is kind of broody…

Again, it's Octavia who interrupts her train of thought, suddenly getting up from the table and pulling Raven along with her. “Dinner was great as always, Mrs K. It's Lexa's turn to do the dishes so good night!”

She feels Bellamy sigh at her side, staring after the two girls nearly running upstairs. “I'm going to study for a bit.” He says, then he turns to Clarke, “Offer stands for tomorrow and for every morning.”

“Thanks.” Clarke says. He nods and leaves, leaving her alone with Vera and Lexa. “Maybe I could help cleaning up?” she asks hesitantly.

Lexa looks at her. “Oh, if you want. It is my turn after all.”

“No, it's okay. It's the least I can do.”

Vera smiles, “In that case, I think I'm off to bed.” She places a comfortable hand on Clarke’s shoulder and gives a gentle squeeze. “Don't hesitate to call me if you need anything. Good night, darlings.”

Clarke’s not going to lie, it is a bit awkward being alone with Lexa. The girl still doesn't speak, and Clarke is starting to wonder whether it's her presence that has Lexa behaving this way.

“So, are Raven and Octavia a thing or something?” She asks the first thing that crosses her mind in an attempt to make conversation. However, she regrets her choice right after she speaks, realising by the side glance that Lexa is giving her that it seems something more than just a curious question.

“No.” Lexa answers as she rubs tomato stains on the plates. “Why? Are you interested in Raven?”

Clarke frowns a little at the abruptness of the question. “No, Octavia just seemed kind of possessive of her. That's all.”

“Well,” Lexa passes her a plate, but doesn't meet her eyes, “you two were flirting throughout dinner.”

Clarke makes a mental note to remember that just because someone isn't taking part in a conversation doesn't mean they're not paying attention to it. “Raven’s cool, but I'm not about to start making wedding plans with her just because we made out once. I was just wondering if they were a thing because they seem pretty close. I’m bi but I don't want to date every girl that smiles at me, Jesus.”

Lexa finally looks at her, and Clarke feels less confident on her little rant. She knows it sounds a bit too much defensive, but honestly, she's feeling somehow attacked with Lexa’s suggestions. Just because she gets on with a girl doesn't mean she wants to date her. And frankly, Lexa saying th-

“I know, Clarke. I am sorry,” Lexa says softly. “Octavia… she is a complicated person. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable nor make it seem like I was being judgmental. I know for a fact that liking girls will not have you falling in love with every girl you see.”

“You know for a fact?” Clarke raises a brow.

“Yes.” Lexa says with a side smile on her face. “The fact is that I, too, like girls.”

Clarke blushes a little, because there are some things that are just basic information for life, so she pretends that the tomato stain on the plate she's holding is fascinating in order to hide herself from Lexa’s very green eyes.

“Ah,” she clears her throat, “cool. I'm sorry I-”

“That's okay.” Lexa’s voice is soft, calming. “Let us forget about this, yes?”

“You're right, good idea.”

It's not long until they have finally finished cleaning up. Clarke's already craving a good night’s sleep and have a brand new star tomorrow. She's hopeful that it will be better than today, since at least she'll get to see Monty.

“I think I'm gonna hit it off,” she yawns.

Lexa, who has now sat on the couch and resumed her lecture, nods at her without saying a word.

“Hm, goodnight.” Clarke awkwardly speaks. Lexa merely nods once again, eyes focused on her book. Clarke frowns, asking herself if she misread the friendly situation of just minutes ago or if the girl truly isn't talkative at all. When she realises she's just standing there, watching Lexa, she quickly walks upstairs and buries herself in the safety of her new room.

* * *

  
Lexa feels blood pumping through her body, which agitates as she runs the remaining distance. The winter air does nothing to calm the warmth of her skin, not even at seven in the morning. Today she's pushed herself a little harder than usual, increasing both the distance and her speed, and her body is doing its own little revolution to complain about it.

She walks for a few minutes back and forth the front lawn of the house. Then, she stretches until her muscles feel relaxed enough for her to get inside.

Vera greets her from the kitchen isle and pushes a cup of coffee in her direction. The coffee tastes warm and sweet due to the amount of sugar Lexa likes to put on it.

It also tastes like any other morning she's had for the past four years.

“So,” Vera asks her, taking a sip from her tea, “what did you think of Clarke?”

Lexa pauses halfway through taking a sip of her coffee and shrugs. “She's fine.”

“She's a good kid.” Vera nods. “Let's just hope Octavia drops her grudge soon.”

At the mention of Octavia, Lexa bites her lip. “I think… I have been wondering for some time if, maybe, it would be a good idea for Octavia to talk to Indra?”

Vera meets her eyes with her own tired ones, but gentle nonetheless. “You know that's a choice she has to make on her own.”

“Yes.” Lexa replies. “But I think it would be a good idea to talk to her about it. I can understand part of what she is going through. I could make her see things differently.”

“Very well.” Vera hums. “You do that. Just take it easy on her, you know how stubborn she is.”

Lexa nods. “I am going to take a shower now. Have a good morning, Vera.”

After two years sharing a home, she's not surprised at all to hear “I want to break free” blasting through Bellamy and Octavia’s bedroom door at a quarter past seven in the morning. In fact, she can practically picture Bellamy using the shower head as a microphone to sing along as he uses up all the hot water. She thanks Vera, not for the first time and definitely not for the last one, for giving the Blake siblings a room with their own bathroom.

She wastes no time in going to her room, then she kicks off her running shoes and grabs a towel, making her way to the bathroom. She's just about to open the door when the knob twists from the inside and Lexa finds herself facing a very wet Clarke Griffin. The sight of the girl in just a towel has Lexa clearing her throat and focusing herself on not looking down the girl’s face.

“Hey,” Clarke greets her, pushing the damp hair on her shoulders to her back and making it deliciously impossible for Lexa not to steal a not so innocent glance.

Still, she resists because she's not some hormonal teenage boy. And maybe that's not a fact to feel as proud of as she feels right now.

“Hello, Clarke.”

“I forgot to bring some clothes with me.”

“Yes, I can see that.”

Clarke clears her throat awkwardly. “I guess you wanted to take a shower?”

“Your guess is right.”

“Right, so…”

Clarke moves to the right to let her through, but just then Lexa moves to let her pass. Then Clarke steps to the left and Lexa, too, goes left. Both of them blush lamely, so Clarke reaches out to grab Lexa by her shoulders and spins them around, making them change places.

“There you go,” she smiles.

“I am going to take a shower now,” Lexa says.

“Yes,” Clarke raises her eyebrows, a little grin playing on her lips. “You said that already.”

“Okay,” Lexa says, closing the door on Clarke's face immediately after on an impulse.

She resists the urge to slam her forehead on the closed door and just rests against it, drowning in her embarrassment. Suddenly she doesn't mind Bellamy using up all the hot water, considering she'll need her shower to be cold as ice if she hopes to make it through the rest of the day.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which octaven takes over. plants are important. we learn a bit about lexa. and clarke is not fitting in that well.

(CHAPTER 2: all we do is sit in silence waiting for a sign, sick and full of pride)

“Do you think there’s a reason these fries always taste so bad? Like maybe they’re slowly trying to poison us so they don’t have to correct any end of year exams?”

Octavia shrugs, clearly not caring about the bad taste of the food and reaching out to steal Raven’s fries off her plate. “They’re not that bad,” she says, “you just have to mix the right combination of salt and ketchup and you won’t even know the difference between these and Mcdonald’s fries.”

“How is that any better?” Raven asks, attempting to do Octavia’s Math homework with her right hand as her left dances on Octavia’s arm, because being ambidextrous and good at multitasking are just part of her every Monday. “The only thing grosser than school food is junk food.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Lexa,” Octavia snorts.

“She’s cooler than you.”

“I’m cooler than you.”

“You really shouldn’t say that when I’m doing your homework for you, Pocahontas.”

“Hey, I’m doing you a favour, Einstein.” Octavia reaches for Raven’s hand and softly taps along her arm with her fingers, getting a small smile out of Raven at the contact. “You probably get off on Math homework.”

“Please,” Raven snorts, “I could do this with my eyes closed. And in my sleep. And in a coma, really.”

Octavia rolls her eyes at her, “Show off much?”

“Weren’t you the one who woke me from my nap yesterday just to watch you kick Bellamy’s ass at basketball?” Raven asks with a smirk. “Cause I’m pretty sure it was.”

“You should be thanking me. Don’t think I didn’t hear you laughing when he fell on his ass. He’s so lame.”

“Must be a sibling thing.”

“I’d fight you, but I’d win and I can’t afford not having someone to do my homework now that Lexa’s still mad at me for making fun of her handwriting.”

“Math homework is done,” Raven says as she begins to pack both her things and Octavia’s. “And you kinda deserved that, you made photocopies of her handwriting in titan size and sticked them all around the house.”

“But have you seen it?” Octavia asks, “It’s like she’s literally typed it and print it out, I swear. Really, give me a printed sheet and one Lexa’s written and I won’t know the difference. Lexa’s would probably be neater, Jesus.”

Raven rolls her eyes but grins when Octavia pulls her out of their seats and grabs their bags, sliding her own on her back and carrying Raven’s on one shoulder. She interlocks their fingers and they get out of the cafeteria, in direction to Raven’s next class.

“So,” Octavia starts, keeping her eyes straight ahead, “the weather’s really nice, isn’t it? So sunny and hot… if I didn’t it was February I’d think we’re in the middle of summer, really…”

“Your point?” Raven asks, feigning ignorance although both of them already know where this conversation is heading to.

“Please?” 

There isn’t any need for Octavia to elaborate more, but if she’s going to get away with this, and she is, she always gets away with everything, Raven is at least going to play a bit hard to get. 

“Please, what?” she asks, faking a frown.

“C’mon, Raven. You already know.”

Raven shrugs. They’ve already reached her class, but the lesson doesn’t start for a few minutes, so she leans on the wall outside, taking her bag from Octavia. 

“I really don’t,” she says, her act of nonchalance harder to perform with Octavia looking at her like that.

“Fine,” Octavia puffs. “Will you do me the honor of camping on our backyard tonight and fall asleep with me and nothing but a simple cloth between us and the stars?”

Raven’s heart skips a beat, and she clenches her nose to compensate. “I’m going to ignore the romantic bullshit you just vomited, probably thinking I’d fall for that crap, because frankly, how is sleeping on the hard, cold ground of any honor?”

“The honor is that you’ll get to sleep with me,” Octavia smirks.

“So like any other night, you mean?” Two can play the game (even if said game is playing with fire), so Raven gets off the wall and takes a step closer to her, “Maybe you should ask Vera for a new mattress, I don’t want to imagine how awful it must be if you sneak into my bed every night.”

“Maybe I will,” Octavia challenges, crossing her arms on her chest. “So you can enjoy your lonely bed tonight while I live adventures on the outside.”

“Not so fast, Pocahontas.” Raven says. There’s only so much that Octavia’s patience can handle and, judging by the twitch on the girl’s mouth, it’s already been tested enough. “Get every blanket on the house and popcorn and you can count me in. But you set up the tent.”

Octavia grins at her, “I always set up the tent, it’s the fun part about it.”

“I thought the most fun was sleeping with you under the stars?”

Octavia casts a look at Raven’s teacher approaching from the end of the hall and she quickly leans in to kiss her cheek goodbye. “Second most fun. See you later, Einstein.”

Raven watches her go, wondering whether it’s possible for her heart to beat on time with each step Octavia takes. 

She shakes her thoughts out of her head with a resigned sigh and enters the classroom to find, predictably, Lexa sitting on her silently claimed seat in the front row. Everyone else is enjoying the absence of the teacher to chat or simply sleep on their chairs, but of course Lexa would be the one to have the material ready and perfectly laid out on her desk. She walks up to her and sits on the desk next to hers. Lexa’s reading a new book today, but that’s not unusual information, so she snatches the book out of her hands, ignoring the murderous scowl she receives, and frowns at the title.

“Why are you reading the ‘City of Light again’? I thought you said it’s bullshit.”

“I did,” Lexa takes back the book from her and puts it inside her bag. “I wasn’t reading it, I’m trying to find out more information about the writer.”

“Why? Wait,” Raven looks at her in suspicion. “Are you interested in him cause Clarke said he knew him? That’s adorable.”

“That is ridiculous.” Lexa corrects her, “Stop trying to make it seem like I have a schoolgirl crush on her. I’ve barely known her for a whole day.”

“You are a schoolgirl,” Raven replies. “Okay, I’ll stop,” she says, raising her hands when Lexa glares at her. “Anyways, why you wanna look the weirdo up.”

Lexa blushes. It’s barely a hint of red on her cheeks, but it’s enough for Raven to feel curious. The teacher chooses that moment to make an act of presence, so Lexa turns closer to Raven and lowers her voice.

“I am looking for a connection with Clarke,” Lexa admits, and Raven looks at her with a blank face. “Don’t look at me that way. I am curious about why she seemed so upset when we mentioned him, that is all.”

That changes Raven’s curiosity focus, because no matter how fun mesing with Lexa is, she does remember Clarke’s reaction and she has to admit it she found it strange as well.

“So you got anything interesting?” she asks.

“No,” Lexa replies, now focused on writing down whatever the teacher is explaining. “Well, maybe. He’s a local and he’s rather wealthy, so I imagine he must live in the same neighbourhood as Clarke. But I doubt she would feel upset about a simple neighbour.”

“I know I wouldn’t,” Raven agrees, a chill shaking her body as she thinks briefly about their next door neighbour, Pike, who likes to sit on his porch during his free time to aggressively talk about global warming at every chance he gets. “Why don’t you just ask her?”

“As I said before,” Lexa glares at her again, “I barely know her. I would not like to come across as noisy, and it’s just mere curiosity. Forget it, we must be overreacting.”

Raven shrugs. She’s surely not going to forget about it, but the topic is getting boring for now.

“Are you driving us home directly after school? Octavia and I are camping out tonight.”

“I have work this afternoon, so yes.” Lexa gives her a quick side glance and Raven looks right back at her. “Are you sure about the camping part? I know your leg has been acting up lately. Sleeping on the ground is not that great of an idea.”

“My leg’s been acting up for years,” Raven scoffs. “I’m not going to let that dictate what I can and can’t enjoy.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Listen,” Raven sighs, “I know you’re saying that because you care, but it’s not helping. I choose how to handle my pain. I’ve got therapy tomorrow, so I think I can skip the rules this time, okay?”

Lexa looks at her for a long moment. “Okay,” she says at last. “It would be nice to have a quiet evening without you two being loud for once.”

Raven grins. “You’re just glad you’re having dinner without me so you can woo blondie when I’m not there to be the focus of her attention.” Lexa opens her mouth to protest, but Raven quickly interrupts her, “And keep quiet around Octavia, she’s excited for tonight and I don’t want to spoil her fun by having her worry about my leg, much less now that the Clarke situation is making her nervous.”

///////////////

Vera owns a bookshop, a small one, out of desire rather than necessity. She doesn’t need the money the shop makes, that much Clarke knows. Upon the woman’s invitation, Clarke finds herself riding the bus to the direction written on her phone. It’s not a long ride, but her inexperience with public transport has her getting off on the wrong stop twice, so when she finally gets to the right destination, the “Polaris” sign on the shop window makes her feel relieved and proud of herself for having survived her first public transport ride.

A soft bell echoes when she pushes the door open, and she’s instantly met by hundreds of books tightly stored in bookshelves of all kinds. It’s a cozy sight, some shelves are too high to reach, which explains the stairs around the shop. There are a few arm chairs and couches, too. Clarke wonders if people come here to read books without spending a dollar. Vera seems to be the type of person to run a business and give free products to every client that comes in.

A murmur of voices lets Clarke know that she’s not alone in the shop. She walks around the shelves, trying to find Vera. That’s how she realises that the shop is actually bigger that it seems. That or the rows and rows of bookshelves make it seem like a never ending labyrinth.

She doesn’t find anyone, but as she returns to where the counter is, she notices the closed door behind it. She gets closer and realises that that’s in fact where the voices are coming from.

She thinks for a few seconds whether to knock and let Vera know that she’s here, but in the end she decides to just sit and wait, since it must be someone important that is meeting with Vera if they’re behind closed doors rather than in the shop.

She has just found a spot for her schoolbag when the door opens and Vera and a man come out, both of them still engrossed on their conversation. Vera gives Clarke a small nod of acknowledgment and she squeezes her shoulder as she walks past her and towards the door with the man. They exchange pleasantries and Vera soon waves him goodbye.

“Welcome to Polaris,” Vera greets her. “What do you think?”

“I like it,” Clarke answers genuinely. “There are a lot of books.”

Vera laughs, delighted. “Well, it is a bookstore, after all.”

“You don’t have any employees?” asks Clarke, noticing that the only people she’s seen in the shop are the man that just left, Vera and herself.

Vera shakes her head, “Don’t tell Marcus, but this place is my baby. I like running it by myself.”

Clarke wanders around the bookshelves again, finding new directions to take. “It’s really big, though,” she says as her fingers linger on the cover of rows of books.

“It is,” Vera agrees. “The kids help out sometimes. But it’s mostly quiet around here. Customers who come in looking for a book are usually easy. I like to think the atmosphere makes people nicer, but there are always one or two that are a piece of work.”

Clarke hums, her interested now taken away by a book. She grabs it, recognizing the unmistakably artwork of the cover as the one Lexa had been reading the day before. She knows it's not a common edition, which makes her wonder if it could be the exact same book.

“Did you have any trouble getting here?”

“No,” she lies, finding her way back to where Vera is, sorting some paperwork behind the counter. She’s not about to admit her failed attempt at travelling on something as normal as a bus.

“Well, I’m glad that you decided to drop by. You’re welcome to take any book you want with you. And if you want a place to do your homework, blue couch is the most comfortable.” Vera points her to a corner adorned by a big window, where a couch and a coffee table make company to the bookshelves. “Unless you prefer to go back home now. I’m closing in a bit more than an hour so, your choice.”

“Um, staying sounds good,” Clarke says, thinking about the awkwardness waiting for her back at Vera’s house. “I have some catching up to do with my homework.”

The bell door announces the presence of a customer, and Vera nods to her before turning her attention to the client.

The homework thing was kind of a lie, but Clarke makes herself comfortable on the blue couch and spreads her things on the table. She does have some homework, but the idea of occupying her time on her AP Biology exercises is enough to make her take out her sketchbook and procrastinate by doodling on the pages.

While she draws, she thinks about her mother’s words when she told her that if in a week’s time she hadn’t settled in fine, she would come back. It’s Monday, so that means that she has to go through six more days before she can return to her late night dates with hot bubbles baths and the cloud called bed in which she sleeps.

She hears Vera laugh kindly at something the customer has said, which makes her feel bad about her thoughts. Vera’s been nothing if not the greatest host in the world, even inviting her over to her workplace. And the others are not that bad, she thinks. Raven is someone she looks forward to spending more time with; Bellamy has offered to drive her to school every morning and has no shame in singing along to classic rock hits as he does; Lexa seems okay, she’s rather intimidating but hasn’t been actively negative to Clarke’s addition in the house, so Clarke thinks that’s a good thing. 

Octavia is definitely a problem. Really, Clarke understands the girl’s reaction to her. After all, she is a rich kid living with some foster kids who can only dream about the things she has always taken for granted. That’s why she had a problem with the arrangement in the first place.

However, she remembers her mother’s voice as they spoke on the phone yesterday night. She sounded exhausted about the long flight, but Abby was more excited and genuinely happy than Clarke has seen her in years. She knows her mother deserves this break from work and from life, and she really doesn’t want to spoil it.

She sighs and closes her eyes. Her mother deserves to be happy. And she wants to make sure she gets that happiness. Even if it means living with strangers who barely tolerate her presence.

////////////////

Octavia grabs a handful of popcorn and takes it into her mouth while she lazily watches Raven doing her homework just opposite her in the small space the tent provides them with. She purposely yawns way too loud to let her boredom known. Predictably, Raven is so engrossed in her task she doesn’t bat an eye, not even when Octavia throws popcorn at her. She will never understand how Raven can find the tedious obligation of homework as fascinating as to give more attention to it than to Octavia, a bowl full of popcorn, Raven’s favourite cupcakes that Octavia knows hot to bake by muscle memory, and a whole night of cuddling.

She takes some popcorn and throws it in the air above her head, opening her mouth to catch it and gritting her teeth shut when it lands on her forehead instead. Apparently, her disgrace steals a snort from Raven, but when she turns to glare at the girl sharply, she’s already focused all her attention on her homework again. “You know, if I wanted to die out of boredom while my ass freezes on the ground because you’re too busy losing your shit over fucking physics, I would have invited Lexa instead,” she snaps.

“Your ass is freezing because you wanted to camp out in February,” Raven throws back. However, she finally puts her homework aside and slowly crawls her way to Octavia. She makes herself comfortable in the bed of pillows Octavia has arranged and throws a blanket over them.

“It was sunny this morning,” Octavia defends. She should have know the temperature would have gone down as the night came, but she’s feeling more warm now that her head is almost lying on Raven’s chest, and Raven’s arm is bruising past her as she leans to take a cupcake. So it’s worth it anyway.

Raven peels the paper off the cupcake and takes a bite, moaning the same second her mouth meets the wonderful taste. Octavia watches her, surely glad that her baking skills are being appreciated at last. She would get involved in any powder mess as long as it meant Raven would be closing her eyes in the way she’s doing so right now.

“God, I swear it’s like you have a baking superpower or something,” Raven compliments her, devouring the rest of her cupcake in another bite.

Octavia clenches her nose, “That’s lame. Why would anyone want to have a baking superpower? What the fuck are you going to do with it, throw cakes at villains that have laser eyes?”

“Okay, dumbass,” Raven nudges her shoulder and points her to the bowl of popcorn. Octavia rolls her eyes but complies, setting the bowl half on top of Raven and half on top of herself. “What superpower do you want, then?” Raven asks.

“Super strength,” Octavia answers without hesitation.

Raven barely suppresses the desire to roll her eyes, “Can you get any more predictable, Jessica Jones?”

Octavia grabs Raven’s hand and taps randomly against her palm, “You were the one who made me go through the whole season in two days.”

“Hey, I never forced to sit through it with me,” Raven teases playfully. “I can’t be blamed for your questionable choice of company.”

“What about you?” Octavia asks, leaning on her elbow and resting her head on her hand to look at Raven properly. “What superpower would you choose?”

Raven closes her hand around Octavia’s and interlocks their fingers. Octavia brushes her thumb over her wrist as an answer. “Mind reading,” Raven says.

“Really?” Octavia scoots closer to Raven and lays her head in the spot between the girl’s head and shoulder. “Why?” she asks quietly in her ear.

“It’d be easier that way,” comes Raven’s soft reply. “There’s a lot of things I want to know.”

“What’d be the fun in just knowing?” Octavia feels Raven move against her. It’s mere seconds while Raven readjusts herself before Octavia’s eyes meet brown. “It’d be so boring,” she whispers.

“Maybe,” Raven says, her breath brushing against Octavia’s nose and lips. “But not knowing important things wouldn’t hurt as much.”

“What if it does?” Octavia brings their interlocked hands to rest between both of their chests. She squeezes for a moment the hand she’s holding, trying to avoid sleep from taking her away from this moment. “What if what you find out is not something you wanted to know?”

Octavia closes her eyes, her breath turning slower and steadier. Raven is not sure if she’s still awake, but she answers anyway, “Then you’ll start healing sooner.” 

Raven falls asleep with hot breath against her cheek and wakes up with wild hair tickling her nose and an aching back burning like hell itself. She had anticipated that she would wake like this, pain going from her spine to her leg and making her eyes water with tears of frustration. She suppresses a hiss and detaches herself from Octavia, careful not to wake her. She comes to a sitting position, which only increases her pain.

Octavia starts to wake up, and Raven takes advantage of the fact that she has her back turned to the girl to compose herself. If a truck would run her over, it would probably hurt less than this. But it will pass, it always does eventually. She needs to have patience. That’s what her physical therapist says, anyway. That there is hope for her, even after a year of therapy without any major improvements. Raven wants to have hope, she really wants to. So she clears her throat, she dries her eyes and she searches for her brace. She will probably have to take her crutches to school today.

“Good morning,” comes Octavia’s sleep induced voice. She covers her shoulders with a blanket and opens the zipper of the tent. “Dude, it’s so cold. You think I can blackmail Bellamy into making bacon and eggs for breakfast? You still have that video of him trying to take a selfie with that duck and nearly getting bit?”

“Um, yes,” Her voice sounds rougher than it normally does in the morning, which makes Octavia stop midway out of the tent and turn to her with a questioning look. “Hey, Pocahontas,” she forces a smile onto her face.

“What’s wrong?” Octavia frowns, panic clouding her eyes. “Is it your back? Are you in pain?”

“It’s nothing,” Raven gets out with a small groan. Her body burns, and Octavia is right there supporting her when she stumbles a bit.

“Raven,” Octavia is angry. Concern first on her list, but anger following close behind. “You promised that you were fine.”

“I am fine,” she snaps. Furious tears threaten their way out of her eyes, but she will die before she lets them out. “The pain is normal. I’m gonna take a shower and it’ll go away.”

Octavia doesn’t believe her, not for one second, both of them know that.

“Octavia,” she says. “I am going to be fine. I’ve got therapy this afternoon, you know that.”

“Can I come with you?” Octavia swallows.

Raven’s heart clenches. That’s not the first time she’s been asked that question, and knowing Octavia, it won’t be the last. Still the answer is the same. “Lexa’s taking me,” she says. Because she won’t let Octavia be there when she’s like that. She can’t.

“I didn’t ask who was taking you,” Octavia says stubbornly. “I asked if I could go with you.”

Raven closes her eyes, already starting to walk slowly towards the house and away from Octavia. “No,” she says over her shoulder. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

She doesn’t look back to see the look on Octavia’s face, and Octavia doesn’t try to follow her. She climbs the stairs with great difficulty and in an enormous quantity of pain, thanking God that there’s nobody there to watch her.

Nobody says anything when she comes down to have breakfast on her crutches, her brace abandoned in her room. Lexa’s nice enough not to give her an “I told you so” look. Octavia doesn’t even lift her eyes from her bowl of cereal.

///////////

Indra’s office is one of the only places Lexa feels safe. It wasn’t at first, and it took weeks and weeks of appointments before she even gathered the courage to do anything other than staring at the Newton’s cradle on the dark wood table between Indra and she while the hour went by. And even now, the background sound that the balls make as they hit each other back and forth are the main thing calming her and stopping her from fidgeting with the hem of her collar.

Indra’s gaze rests on her, awaiting patiently as always. Her dark suit matches the minimalistic design of her office, and she holds a fountain pen in her hand, ready to be used the moment Lexa starts talking. 

There was a time when the pen wouldn’t have been used at all. A time when Vera would come with her three a week and stay in the waiting room as Lexa shared nothing but silence with Indra. Then, there had never been any kind of pressure. Indra never asked her any questions, her eyes never flickered with impatience. She only addressed Lexa to remind her of the date of their next appointment. 

Until one day, Lexa was the one to speak.

Granted, things didn’t start improving that minute, but they did improve eventually and with a lot of hard work. That’s how three-times-a-week appointments became twice a week. Months later, twice a week became once. And now, after four years, Lexa voluntarily still saw Indra once every two weeks.

Still, some things are easier to talk about than others, Lexa knows that better than most people. Sometimes she spends the better time of her hour engrossed in the smell of fresh pastries that comes through the window from the bakery next door with Indra’s workplace. 

Through the years, Lexa stopped being the fourteen-year-old too ashamed to talk about her nightmares and the still fresh memories replying behind her eyes everytime she closed them. Through the years, Indra has helped Lexa reach an understanding of her emotions. Indra respects her wish to stand in the dark when she’s not ready to start walking out of it, but Indra has also come to be the help Lexa needs to turn on the light when she’s been in the dark for too long. 

Now, Indra too is the first to break the silence. And Lexa welcomes it like she knows her fourteen-year-old self would never have.

“Your birthday is coming soon,” Indra says. She keeps it brief and simple, opening a new path for Lexa but never closing the door to safety. That way, Lexa can be the one who gets to decide which is discussed and which isn’t.

“Yes,” she says. “I am afraid Raven wants to throw a party and invite the whole school.”

“Would you not like to have a party for your eighteenth birthday?”

“A celebration? Sure,” Lexa answers easily. “A party with more people than I know in attendance, with the whole purpose of getting drunk over something as irrelevant as another day in my life? Not really.”

It’s not meant to be a self deprecating statement. Lexa is nearly always too busy or too tired to party, and she would prefer to simply have a quiet and peaceful evening over staying awake long into the night and cleaning up the next day.

“How’s school?” Indra asks, eyes focused on the pen sliding through her notebook.

“Still captain of the basketball team. Still president of the student body. Marks good as always,” Lexa eases into a more relaxed posture. “School is fine.”

“You seem to have a lot of duties,” Indra remarks looking at her. “I take it you’re still working part time at that coffee shop?”

Lexa nods, confident in the direction the conversation is taking. “I can manage my time just fine. My school activities will look good on my resume, and the team is achieving a lot this season, so I am confident in my possibilities for a sports scholarship.”

Indra’s hand continues writing down at an admirable pace. Her impassible facial expressions are something Lexa has learned to deal with over time, but the lack of knowledge of what the therapist thinks still gets on her nerves.

“Vera has offered to cover my tuition,” she continues. “But, even if I don’t get a scholarship, I have enough money saved to settle and find another part time job. I refused her offer.”

“Your academic goal is admirably high, Lexa,” Indra says. They have already talked multiple times about Lexa’s plan for college, and that’s not what is in question here. “You are optimistic in aiming to achieve that without anyone’s help.”

“This is not about refusing help,” Lexa retorts, not sure who she is trying to convince. “It’s about ensuring my future. Vera has other responsibilities apart from me, and when I turn eighteen, she really will not have to care anymore.”

She bites the inside of her cheek because she knows that, despite the serenity in which she has spoken, she has given herself away.

“I thought that fear was long overcome.”

“It was. For the most part,” Indra’s eyes meet hers, and Lexa chooses to lose control. She has learned that that is the easiest way sometimes. “Something has happened.” Her hand stops just midway to grabbing the collar of her shirt. Indra nods her head, silently asking Lexa to continue. “Vera has this tree at home. Actually, she has a lot of plants, but there is a small tree that she keeps inside the house because it’s important to her. She even has a name for it,” she stops and takes a look at the clock. The only sounds she can hear are Indra’s pen writing along and the constant background sound the cradle makes. She takes a breath, her mouth is instantly filled with the delicious smell of fresh chocolate chip cookies, her favourite. She continues, “That tree has been around even longer than I have. It is always perfect, sort of constant, I guess.” A few seconds pass, Indra awaits patiently. Lexa takes another breath, she doesn’t stop her fingers from running through her hair this time. “Two days ago, a leaf fell.”

“Was that the first time it happened?” Indra asks with slightly raised eyebrows,

“Yes.”

“I am no gardener, but I am almost completely sure that the possibility of a plant staying completely healthy through more than four years is slim, if existent at all.”

There is no mockery in Indra’s words, there never is, but Lexa quickly starts feeling frustrated about not being understood. “I am not the only one,” she says almost fiercely. “Octavia and Raven are worried, too. The tree is important for Vera. It is always… perfect.”

“I see,” Indra resumes with her notes. “Are you concerned that if that changes, everything else will?”

Lexa’s mouth twitches, “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Have you talked to Mrs Kane about it?”

“No. But… I think I should?”

Indra nods, satisfied. “Your thinking is correct. Obsessing over the small details has always being a fault of yours that actually does more good than bad. Do not let that change now.”

//////////////

Three mornings into her new routine, Clarke is not surprised to wake up to a silent house. She checks the time on her phone and nods to herself, the 6:45 that reads on the screen gives her enough time to have breakfast peacefully by herself.

She’d be lying if she said she’s been doing her best to fit in with the rest of the house. In fact, she’s been using up every second that she can count at school, busy with the Debate Club and the student council. But when her time with extracurricular activities is over, she chooses to take the bus to Vera’s book shop instead of coming back to the house. Vera has made it known that she doesn’t mind Clarke being there, but she’s afraid that her plan will soon be discovered if she keeps making every excuse possible not to spend time with the rest of the teenagers.

Sure, they’re mostly friendly towards her when the unavoidable dinner time comes around, but it’s still only Bellamy and Raven who seem to appreciate her presence. If she’s lucky, Octavia will be too focused on her food to even look at her which, if you ask Clarke, is far better than when she does look at her, only to try and murder her with her eyes. 

Then there is Lexa. Apart from their conversation on Sunday night and Monday morning, Clarke is sure she hasn’t heard Lexa speak any other sentence. No one seems to be disturbed by the fact that the girl is mostly quiet during dinner time, only ever talking if she’s asked a question. It’s not really an attitude Clarke would refer to as rude, but Lexa sure as hell isn’t the most welcoming person in the house.

She’s just finished changing into her school uniform and combing her hair when she goes downstairs to find, surprisingly, Mrs Kane still there. Usually, when she comes down to have breakfast she’s all alone until Bellamy joins her. Sometimes she can hear Mrs Kane in the backyard, most likely taking care of her plants. But it seems that today the woman has decided to turn her attention to the small tree by the window. Well, small trees, Clarke thinks, since now an identical second one lies on the table as well.

“Good morning.”

The sound of Clarke’s voice makes the woman jump. Vera quickly covers the second tree and turns around, relief taking over her face as she takes notice of Clarke’s presence. “Good morning, darling,” she says, clearly more relaxed now. “You’ve given me a good scare. I was afraid you were one of the girls.”

Clarke frowns, confused by the meaning in the woman’s words. Vera notices her reaction, but she tends to her unfinished task before bothering to give an explanation. With expertise, she changes the small tree out of its flower pot and replaces it for the new one. Then, she goes out to the backyard through the kitchen’s door. In her absence, Clarke pours herself a cup of coffee and prepares some toast. She sits on the island and nearly smiles when Queen’s “Friends will be friends” travels all the way from Bellamy’s shower to her ears. She’s getting used to his taste in music after singing along on the way to school to every classic rock hit there is.

Vera comes in again, cleaning her hands off dirt in the kitchen sink before joining Clarke at the island with her own cup of coffee. “You must be wondering what that was about,” she says. Clarke nods, and the woman takes a sip from her cup before continuing, “The kids have a weird obsession with that tree. They think that because it’s always on a perfect state, everything else is.”

“But you just replaced it,” Clarke frowns.

“I did, yes,” Vera smiles with mischief. “I do it every few weeks.”

“They think it’s always perfect because it’s always a new tree,” Clarke finishes. “But what does it matter? It’s just a tree, why not tell them the truth?”

Vera sighs, “For them, it’s not just a tree. It’s continuity,” she looks at Clarke while she speaks, but her distant eyes are enough for Clarke to know that the woman is not completely there with her. “It started off as a silly joke, then it stuck around. The first time I saw a leaf falling from it, I panicked. It represents security for them, something that they have not known for the better part of their lives.”

“So you change it every time it starts shredding leaves.”

“Yes,” Vera smiles gently. “If any of them had been interested in taking up my wonderful lessons of gardening, none of this nonsense would have reached this level of complication.” There’s a few noises upstairs, doors opening and closing, and early morning bickering. “I trust you to keep this to yourself?” Vera continues, “They will find out on their own time. Bellamy already knows, and he took it a bit hard.”

Clarke nods. She still has questions to ask, but in that moment, the front door opens and Lexa joins them. As it always does, Lexa’s presence sets off an awkward atmosphere that Clarke can’t begin to understand. Vera meets her eyes with a nod to end their conversation, then she turns to greet Lexa and starts making a cup of coffee for her.

Lexa sits in the island, the hot cup warming her hands. The air is thick with silence now that Vera has returned to her plants. 

Unable to stand the silence a second longer, Clarke speaks, “How was you run?”

Lexa blinks, looking at Clarke as if speaking was an alien concept to her, “It was fine.” A few beats go by, and Clarke thinks of this as yet another useless attempt to try and figure Lexa out. But then, Lexa opens her mouth again, “Vera likes you very much.”

The statement confuses Clarke. It is not bad intentioned, she notices. Lexa just looks at her like she’s trying to solve a puzzle but has all the time in the world to do so. Clarke is not as patient. “I like her, too,” she says.

“You’ve been spending time at Polaris,” again, there’s no judgment in Lexa’s voice. No jealousy, no nothing. It’s just that, simple information. 

Clarke wonders if this is Lexa’s version of making small talk.

“How do you know that?” she lifts a brow at her.

Lexa follows the movement of her eyebrow, raising her cup of coffee slowly to her lips. She’s not studying her, at least Clarke doesn’t feel observed in that way, but she’s definitely not just looking at her. “You’re never here after school,” Lexa says in the end, “and you always arrive with her.”

Well, by always she means the past two days but, whatever. It also feels like an always for Clarke.

“I like it in there,” she says. “It’s a nice place. I guess helping out a bit is the least I can do.”

Lexa hums but doesn’t bother to say anything else, and Clarke thinks that that’s just as much conversation as she’s going to get from her today. The intense atmosphere that has arisen sets Clarke on edge, but her posture betrays nothing. Her hands hold calmly her cup while her forearms rest on the table. Lexa, on her part, looks as composed and put together as always. That’s until she starts tugging at the hem of the collar of her running hoodie. Clarke follows the action closely, like she’s trying to decipher a pattern.

She’s fallen into a pit of thoughts she doesn’t know how to get out of, but thankfully, Bellamy chooses that moment to move his loud self into the kitchen, saving them both from further awkwardness.

“Morning,” he greets them, mouth filled with half a banana from which he peeled the skin like, half a second ago. “Ready to go?” he asks Clarke.

“Yes,” she says. “Aren’t you going to have anything else for breakfast?” she asks as she cleans her dishes from the island.

“I work at a coffee shop, the least they can do is feed me.”

Clarke thinks that makes more sense than him only having a banana, because she has seen him eat a whole pizza by himself without breathing. And in the two days she’s known him, that’s the most relevant information about Bellamy Blake she has. Well, that and his taste in music.

She grabs her schoolbag from the floor and nods to Lexa, who merely nods back.

“Later, Lexa,” says Bellamy, taking his car keys on the way out.

Contrary to what it may seem, Bellamy is actually a very conscious driver. He readjusts the mirrors every time he gets in the car, after having buckled his seatbelt. If it weren’t from his singing, Clarke would have thought that it was her mother on the wheel.

Apparently, Journey is the soundtrack of the day. Clarke doesn’t need to be told twice before joining in on an incredibly out of tune version of “Anyway you want it”.

The ride is around fifteen minutes, which gives Clarke a good ten minutes before she has to rush to her first class. However, she’s surprised when Bellamy pulls over outside her school and stops the car.

“Listen,” he says, “I know it’s just been two days, but I wanted to ask… how are you settling in?”

“I don’t have any complaints,” Clarke is not sure why the question is asked. Bellamy doesn’t strike her as the type to suddenly open up and talk about feelings and, to be honest, she’s absolutely not one to do that.

“Yes, well,” He glances at Clarke carefully before speaking whatever has been on the tip of his tongue. “You’re allowed to spend time outside your bedroom, you know. You don’t have to hide from us.”

Clarke feels a blush beginning to take over her face. She wasn’t being as subtle as she thought, so what? Anger starts mixing up with her embarrassment, what right has Bellamy to talk about that when his sister is far from making Clarke feel comfortable?

“What I am trying to say,” Bellamy continues, maybe aware that his choice of words wasn’t the most appropriate, “is that you shouldn’t take Octavia’s attitude as the norm. She’s alone in that,” he gives her an attractive lopsided smile, a signature of his. “Don’t let my sister shy you away from us.”

“I don’t,” Clarke says. “I do understand her. I don’t understand her anger towards me, but I do get the hostility towards the rich snobby teenager.” She smiles, “I know where I come from, Bellamy.”

“For what is worth, I don’t think you’re snobby,” he says. “And I’m telling you that as I look at the cars your classmates, who are kids, drive and I think holy fuck.” He snorts and shakes his head with a smile. “I’m not saying that you should be best friends forever with us, but we will try just as hard as you.”

“Okay,” she unbuckles her seatbelt and gets out of the car. She leans in to look at Bellamy through the rolled down window, “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“One last thing,” he pulls out his phone and starts typing. “I’m sending you the direction of the cafe I work at. It’s just a few streets down. In case you wanted another safe space to chill after school.”

She nods to him, feeling grateful and at ease. “Thank you.”

The sound of Journey’s “Don’t stop believing” stays with her until his car is out of sight. 

It’s only Wednesday and she’s already done for the week to a record breaking level. But Monty is waving at her just a few steps ahead. Her phone buzzes with Bellamy’s text. Vera is expecting her after school with new stories about her shop. Raven sends snapchats to her while she’s supposed to be paying attention in class. And she may have made some kind of progress with Lexa that morning.

Maybe, just maybe, there’s a small chance the following weeks won’t be as bad as Clarke first anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are highly appreciated, they help to keep motivation around and are a perfect way to let me know if you're enjoying the direction that the story takes. So, don't hesitate! :)
> 
> Also, you can find my at http://clarkebiblood.tumblr.com/. Sometimes I post other things apart from Clexa (barely).


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which octavia tries hard, clarke finds a new muse, jackets are exchanged, and basketball games end in party time.

 

**CHAPTER 3: (and you know) we're on each other's team.**

 

Clarke has never been employed in her life. Needles to say, she’s never needed the money. So she’s a bit nervous about being in the bookshop by herself, but Vera told her that she had some errands to run, and the least Clarke could do was offer to cover the woman in her absence.

 

It’s rather easy, actually. There’s an easy enough computer program that shows her in which bookshelf a book is when she types its name. All she has to do when a customer comes in is enter the name of the book in the computer and go grab it. Besides, she has a lot of time to do her homework and read between customers so really, she’s enjoying herself quite a lot.

 

The door bell announces a new presence. Clarke looks up to find Raven walking towards her, two cups of coffee in her hands.

 

“Hey, blondie,” Raven winks at her. “Didn’t know how you liked your coffee, so got you some hot chocolate.”

 

Clarke blinks, surprised. She hadn’t been expecting Raven to come, much less to have the girl make some nice gesture for her. “Oh, thanks. You didn’t have to…”

 

“C’mon don’t get shy on me,” Raven smirks. “I was glad to do it, actually. It gave me an excuse to go bother Bellamy. You know he works at a coffee shop a few streets down? You should go mess with him sometime, it’s fun.”

 

“He told me this morning,” Clarke nods. “I was thinking to drop by tomorrow after school.”

 

“You do that,” Raven says, satisfied. “Anyways, I’ve got to get like, four books for Lexa.”

 

“Okay, that’s a lot of books,” Clarke says. “Just tell me the titles and I can tell you where to grab them from.”

 

Raven grins. “Don’t worry. I know where they are. That program you’re using?” Raven asks and points to herself with a cheeky grin, “I made it.”

 

“You designed this?” Clarke asks. “Wow, that’s very impressive.”

 

“Not really,” Raven shrugs, disappearing among the rows of bookshelves. “It’s not that good, actually. Computers are not really my forte.”

 

Clarke whistles under her breath because damn, if computers are not Raven’s forte yet the girl managed to create this programme, she wonders what Raven’s speciality is. She makes a mental note to introduce Raven and Monty soon.

 

After a few minutes, Raven comes back to the counter and sets a few books beside her bag. Then, she leans over and peers at Clarke’s opened notebook. “So, what’s up?”

 

“Not much, really,” Clarke answers. “It’s mostly quiet around here, so I was just catching up with my homework.”

 

Raven hums and takes another peek at Clarke’s books. “Chemistry,” she smirks, “sweet.” Raven whistles when she’s read more of Clarke’s notes, “Whoa, this is really advanced shit. Hold up, this is  _ great _ . Got another pen?”

 

Clarke frowns, rather amused. She makes room for Raven behind the counter, and the girl fits in another chair before sitting next to Clarke and proceeding to do Clarke’s homework with her. Raven’s enthusiasm has Clarke finishing all her work in less than an hour. By the time there’s no more homework left, Raven’s quite impressed by her, and that’s no little feat, because damn, that girl is so smart Clarke’s not sure how she managed to surprise her.

 

“So you do have more skills besides sending hilarious snapchats,” Raven teases.

 

Clarke grins, she’s been sending snapchats back and forth with Raven, and the experience has been completely amusing. “Too much free time,” she says.

 

“Eh,” Raven shrugs, “same here.” She looks at Clarke with eyes full of mischief that reminds Clarke of when her father used to sneak her some ice cream to eat after dinner even though her mother had said no. Apparently, Raven decides to give a go to whatever she’s thinking, because she clicks her tongue and says, “I actually kinda forced Lexa to open an account this morning. She’s such an amateur, sends captions with perfect grammar. You should add her and have a laugh.”

 

Clarke clears her throat a bit awkwardly. “Sure, okay. Here,” she passes her phone to Raven, who’s quick to type in a few letters.

 

Raven holds the phone up and snaps a selfie of herself and Clarke, then types “found someone cooler than you” and sends it with the winky emoji. It makes Clarke chuckle a little, but she’s also insecure about how Lexa will receive the interaction. She hadn’t pegged the girl for someone to be playful over social media.

 

“Hey,” Raven says. “What are your plans for Friday?”

 

Clarke stops for a second. Normally, she would go to some party thrown by one of her classmates, with whatever excuse their rich parents didn’t really care about. However, being gone all Friday night and the better part of Saturday morning wasn’t an impression she wanted to leave on Vera after living with her for less than a week. She was thinking of maybe having coffee with Monty and then going back to sulk in her new room.

 

“Not much,” she says. “Why?”

 

Raven smirks, “Great. Our school’s basketball team is playing. O and Lexa are in the team, so we’re all gonna go watch them play. Wanna join?”

 

“Uh…” Clarke hesitates, Octavia isn’t her biggest fan, and she doesn’t want to feel out of place.

 

“It’ll be fun,” Raven insists. “The team is actually great. Lexa’s the captain and O is like a kangaroo, I swear.” Clarke doesn’t miss the way Raven’s eyes brighten up when she talks about Octavia. “And when they win,” Raven continues confidently, “we’re gonna go celebrate. And I have it on good authority that you’re the party type.”

 

Clarke snorts at Raven’s wink. “Okay, I’ll admit it: you had me at party.” She jokes. “Yeah, I’m in. Party or not, actually. I think Bellamy’s kind of worried that I’m isolating myself, and maybe he’s got a point,” she shrugs. “Great opportunity to change that, right?”

 

Raven’s winning grin is the only answer she needs.

 

* * *

 

Octavia loves basketball. She loves competing and winning matches. She loves blocking, shooting, scoring. She likes most of her teammates and is comfortable with them. She loves Lexa taking over the captain role and getting all professional and inspirational and being embarrassed when Octavia teases her later at home.

 

However, all of that barely makes up for how much she hates doing laps. Usually, one training session of the week is spent doing running around the football pitch, and that’s the day Octavia hates most.

 

She has great endurance, she never gets tired during a match. It’s not that running exhausts her, but it sure bores her to hell and back. She’s already missing the feeling of the ball against her fingertips, and they have another ten minutes before finishing practice.

 

She hears her coach’s whistle from behind her, yelling at some teammates for slacking off. Octavia rolls her eyes, of course Titus would shout at them to run faster while he sits on his ass and draws the same old tactic over and over again. Titus is a good enough coach, Octavia will give that to him, but his game is boring. That’s one of the reasons why Lexa is such a great captain, she is creative but consistent.

 

(Octavia thinks that if basketball was a battlefield, the team would follow Lexa to war with their eyes closed.)

 

Speaking of, why is Octavia not surprised when Lexa runs past her for what must be the second time already? Octavia is not slow, hell, she’s one of the fastest of the team. Sure, she doesn’t shoot as well as Lexa but she can jump higher. The thing is, Lexa is the only one who enjoys running laps like her life depended on it. 

 

Octavia makes her strikes a bit longer and catches up with her. “Hey, cap.”

 

Lexa slows down a little and Octavia scoffs, not bothering to pretend she’s not offended by it. Lexa meets her with a raised brow, “Are you going to ask me to put Saturday practice off until ten, too?”

 

“No need,” Octavia says. Saturday practices are always at 8am sharp, but they’ve got a game on Friday and when they win, because she’s completely confident they will, Harper is throwing a party at her house and even Lexa’s going to be trashed enough to put it off. “Just wanted to remind you that we have some celebrating to do Friday night.”

 

“I am not in the mood to go out,” Lexa says, predictably rolling her eyes, something Octavia doesn’t need to see for herself to know it’s happening. “Besides, it is not certain that we will win.”

 

“You gotta come,” Octavia insists, “we need you to be DD.”

 

Lexa sighs, wiping sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, “You can call me when you feel like leaving, there is no need for me to be at the party just to drive you and Raven back.”

 

“Okay, then just come for the sake of fun,” Octavia says. She knows Lexa enjoys parties every once in awhile, and it’s been a long time since she last went to one. To be honest, Octavia’s been a bit worried that Lexa’s stressing out too much lately. Well, she’s Lexa. She’s captain of the basketball team, she’s on the student council, she has a part time job and she’s top student of the school along with Raven. Octavia knows that the girl can manage but, hell, she’s been living with her for two years, she kind of knows when Lexa needs a night out. 

 

“If we win,” Lexa says after a moment, “I will consider it.”

 

Octavia grins, that’s enough, at least for now.

 

Titus blows his whistle and gathers them to say a few words, same as always. After that, they’re finally free to shower and go home. Octavia walks to the showers lost in her thoughts. She’s always a bit weary of showering in the locker room. Don’t get her wrong, she’s very proud of her body, she works really hard for it, even if she does eat a lot of crap food. She couldn’t care less what anyone thought of her. She’s also pretty sure that she likes girls, it’s not necessarily an outspoken truth, but everybody, at least the people who matter, knows that she’s not really straight, so she thinks that that’s okay, kind of. Besides, Lexa’s very gay and no one in the team has ever given her any bullshit for it, quite the opposite actually.

 

Octavia’s not insecure and she doesn’t have any trouble in being around pretty naked girls, but she always takes very quick showers, doesn’t bother to wash her hair since she’ll take another shower back home, anyway. She prefers it that way, she’s more comfortable in the intimacy of her own bathroom where no one talks and interrupts her peace. (Technically, it’s Bellamy’s bathroom too, but like, whatever.)

 

When she gets out, Lexa is waiting for her by the car. If Raven was there, she’d ask why Lexa is the only person in the world capable of pulling of the Lexa Bun with any kind of clothes. Of course, Raven has a point. The Lexa Bun is like any other messy bun but, somehow, it fits Lexa so much that they gave it that name a few months ago.

 

But, despite her bun and her stoic posture against the car, Lexa’s on her phone, which is absolutely not something she would do. She basically uses it to respond with single words texts and to call like four people (same people she lives with).

 

Octavia approaches her silently, taking note that Lexa has yet to notice her, and spies over her shoulder to see what has Lexa so interested in her phone.

 

“Since when do you have snapchat?” Octavia raises an eyebrow at her, because Lexa doesn’t really enjoy social media.

 

Lexa gives her an uninterested shrug, “Raven made me create one, to keep her amused during class, she said.”

 

Duh, Octavia thinks, Raven would have been just fine had she send her the normal amount of snaps they usually share between class. Too bad they haven’t been not talking since yesterday morning.

 

“Although a lot of people have added me as a friend already,” Lexa says, getting inside the car. Octavia follows her lead, buckling her seatbelt and claiming control over the radio. “It is actually quite overwhelming. A lot of girls I barely know have been sending me rather intimate photos all morning.”

 

At that, Octavia snorts. “You are kinda popular, everyone wants a piece of your hot ass.” And it’s not a lie. Lexa’s not the type to sleep around but, to Octavia’s knowledge, she’s never called a girl she was seeing her girlfriend. Octavia still doesn’t know whether Lexa hasn’t found anyone interesting enough or is simply enjoying herself. “I’m gonna add myself so you can send me ‘morning’ snaps at 6am.”

 

“I will not use it to take photos of every single thing I do,” Lexa says, but does nothing to avoid Octavia from taking her phone.

 

Octavia knows more phone passwords than she can count, and Lexa couldn’t care enough to change hers, so she’s immediately inside Lexa’s brand new snapchat account. Yes, well. Lexa wasn’t overreacting when she mentioned the photos, she’s got like, six new snaps in the span of six minutes. Octavia isn’t petty enough to open them, or actually, she is, but she doesn’t want Lexa breathing down her neck for invading her privacy, so she just searches and adds herself. But then, a new snap comes in from ‘clarkegriff’ and Octavia is opening it as soon as she reads the username.

 

The photo is of Clarke making a stupid face with her stupid face and pointing at something in the background. That something, Octavia realises, happens to be Raven.

 

Octavia has to command every cell of her body not to smash Lexa’s phone in the window even though the sight of the selfie is screaming at her to do so. Not only that, but if it wasn’t weird enough for Clarke The Brat to be with Raven right now and to send a snapchat to Lexa, Octavia also notices that this is apparently the fourth exchange of snaps Lexa and Clarke have had. Which doesn’t help, but also makes her very curious.

 

She decides not to comment on it, though. Raven and she are still not talking and now that Raven has found better ways of spending her time, Octavia is not going to give her the satisfaction of thinking she cares about that in any way. (She totally does, though.)

 

She returns Lexa’s phone. She changes the radio a few times, not enough to make Lexa exasperated, then an idea comes to her mind, “Hey, how about you take me for a quick driving lesson?” She asks. “You don’t have work today, right?”

 

“No,” Lexa replies, giving her a side glance. “But Raven has therapy this evening. I thought you knew?”

 

“Ah. She might have forgotten to mention,” Octavia clenches her hand in a fist, because if Raven forgot, it was so very much deliberately.

 

Lexa eyes her again, though she’s quick to return her eyes to the road, “You shouldn’t be pushing it so hard.”

 

She doesn’t want to be mad at Lexa, she really doesn’t, and she also knows that Lexa is right, she’s completely out of line here. She’s been unfair and she knows it, but the irrational part of her is always more than willing to take over. “She lets you come with her to her sessions,” she nearly spits, “she won’t even tell me when she has them.”

 

“Maybe,” Lexa starts saying with her thoughtful voice that Octavia knows will make her feel bad about this later, “you are making this into something bigger than it actually is.”

 

“It  _ is  _ a big deal,” Octavia retorts. “Raven doesn’t trust me enough to let me help her through this.”

 

“Tell me, then. How would you help her?” Lexa asks her. “What do you know of her physical recovery?”

 

“What do  _ you  _ know?” Octavia fires back, even though she knows Lexa’s intention is not to call her out on anything.

 

Lexa raises an eyebrow at her, but remains calm as ever. “About therapy?” she asks. “Quite a lot, actually. I’ve been seeing a therapist for four years.”

 

“It’s not the same,” Octavia protests weakly. “Raven’s doing physical therapy. It’s not the same. She does like exercise and stuff, she told me that. And besides, she lets you come with her. Your sessions with your therapist are much more private.”

 

“Just because Raven likes it when I’m there doesn’t mean that it’s not a private moment for her,” Lexa tells her gently. “I have experience with the self insecurities of therapy, Octavia. You don’t.”

 

“Okay,” Octavia gives in, her cheeks a bit red. “I just want to help her in any way I can.”

 

“You could start by apologising for not putting her feelings regarding this matter, which affects her the most, before yours,” Lexa says, and Octavia is grateful for the gentleness in which Lexa addresses her selfish bullshit. “Baby steps, yes?”

 

“Yeah,” she nods. “I think I can do that.”

 

“Good. And Octavia?” Lexa pulls up, making Octavia realise that they’re already at home. “Therapy’s good, you know? Helps you get to know yourself better, in many different ways. You could consider giving it a try, maybe.”

 

Octavia frowns and opens her mouth, but Lexa beats her to it. “I know you, quite a lot, and this is not something you’re going to like, but there is not a better way to say it: you do not always know how to act on your feelings, and you hurt yourself because of that, and you hurt the people who love you because of that.”

 

Octavia stares at her and knows that this hasn’t come out of the blue, that Lexa’s been waiting for the right moment to bring it up. It makes her feel angry and embarrassed, but she keeps her mouth shut because whatever she says, Lexa will have a smarter response.

 

“Just think about it,” Lexa continues. “Indra… thanks to her, I have made a lot of progress. I know you can, too. There’s no shame in wanting to be better, but I do know that does not help, yet. So just consider it. We would always support you if you wanted to see someone.”

 

“And if I don’t?”

 

Lexa sighs and takes the key out of the ignition, “I’m afraid that is not something I can answer for you.”

 

* * *

  
  


“I’m glad you decided to come,” Bellamy places her coffee cup in front of her. “This one’s on the house.” He sits on the chair opposite her and checks for a second that everyone in the cafe is content. It’s a quiet hour, so he leans on his elbows and relaxes for a while. “Raven told me you’re coming to watch the game tomorrow.”

 

Clarke nods, she takes a sip of her coffee and, whoa, okay. It tastes great. “I thought about what you said,” she tells him, “of keeping myself aside. I figured you do have a point, so. I don’t know much of basketball, though.”

 

“Not a problem,” he says. “I’ll keep you posted while we’re watching.”

 

A new customer walks in and Bellamy is off on work duty again. Clarke doesn’t mind, she’s brought her homework with her. Actually, she walked here when she was freshly done with school, and she’s happy she did so. It’s a wonderful place, really. The atmosphere has a wooden touch and it smells heavily of coffee. And those doughnuts look absolutely delicious, she’s going to order one later for sure.

 

Her phone rings. She looks at the screen to find out her mother is calling. With a sigh, she takes the call, “Hi, mom.”

 

“Good morning, sweetie,” comes her mother’s voice at the end of the line.

 

“It’s the middle of the afternoon over here.”

 

“Right,” Abby laughs, like that’s the funniest joke in the world, and Clarke doesn’t know whether to feel embarrassed or happy for her mother’s improved mood. “Anyway, how are you?”

 

“Good. Just doing some homework.” It seems like all that she’s done lately is homework, homework and more homework. It’s great, really. Her teachers are delighted. But if she was on her own house with her own freedom, that wouldn’t be the case.

 

“Great,” Abby says. “You better do some hard work because if not you’re going to have a lot of catching up to do when we get back from the Maldives. After all, missing two weeks of school is not small deal.”

 

Clarke gasps, “Does that mean that-”

 

“Yes,” Abby interrupts her with a grin. “We worked around our schedule and we’re back to the original plan. So pack ahead, darling.”

 

“You’re the best,” Clarke smiles, thinking about the upcoming days of sun and peace. “But we both know I always overpack.” Abby hums knowingly and Clarke grins. “How are you liking Germany?”

 

“Great, but it’s mostly hotels and meetings. Marcus did surprise me last night, though. We escaped a tedious gala and he took me to dinner to a fancy restaurant with live jazz music.”

 

“You and Marcus behaving like teenagers? That’s something I do not want to picture ever in my life.”

 

“Funny, Clarke,” she can hear her mother’s smile through the speaker, and the mere thought of her mother happy makes her smile, too. “What about you? How’s everything over there?”

 

“Okay, I guess.” Clarke shrugs, even though she knows her mother can’t see her.

 

“You don’t sound very confident,” Abby says. “I was serious about what I told you. If you really think that this is too much, then I’ll call everything off and come back.”

 

“No.” She replies after a long beat. “I can handle it. Mrs Kane is actually great, she’s really sweet. And I’m making an effort to get along with the other kids. They’ve invited me to a basketball game tomorrow night.”

 

“Okay,” Abby tells her tenderly. “But know that you can change your mind, and I’ll be fine with that.”

 

“Mum,” Clarke nearly whispers. “I want you to have fun. It’s not even three months. And besides, you’re taking me to the Maldives for two weeks. I’m a big girl.”

 

“You’ve been using that argument since you were five,” her mother laughs again, and it just makes it more worthy for Clarke. “Okay, I have to go get ready for another meeting. I’ll call you tomorrow, alright? I love you.”

 

“I love you too, mom. Bye.”

 

It’s around half past four when she’s finished her homework and she’s set herself on doing some drawing. There’s a concrete painting that she’s yet to finish after weeks of work but, as always, inspiration doesn’t come. Getting tired of just staring at it in frustration, she’s about to give it up and doodle mindlessly when a voice interrupts her.

 

“Hello, Clarke.”

 

She looks up at the person the voice came from to find none other than Lexa standing next to her. Her hair is combed in a single braid, and she must be wearing contact lenses, because she’s not using her glasses.

 

“Oh, hey,” she says. Lexa continues standing on the spot, her back perfectly stiff and her hands clasped in front of her. Clarke gestures awkwardly to the seat opposite her, “Um, do you want to sit?”

 

“Actually, I can’t. I am here for my shift,” Lexa gestures to the apron and nametag she’s wearing. “I saw you here and I thought it would be rude not to say hi.”

 

Clarke’s not sure if she wants to snort or frown at the sentence, and Lexa’s seriousness only helps in confusing her further. Man, this girl is something else.

 

“Well, you’ve said hi,” she says lightly.

 

Lexa nods. “Yes.” 

 

She pauses then, observing Clarke’s sketchbook. Like she always does when someone stares at her art, Clarke feels an irrational urge to close and bury it where no one can find it. And the fact that the drawing Lexa is staring at is that one, just serves to increase her panic. But there’s something in the curious and focused green eyes of the girl that keeps her from snapping the book shut.

 

“It’s beautiful,” Lexa says after a moment. “Is it meant to be a chess knight?”

 

“Uh, yeah.” Clarke says. It is a chess knight, just not the standard one, which is what has Clarke with this infuriating artist block. She can’t manage to get it quite right.

 

“It’s a rather peculiar one, then. Still very beautiful.”

 

“I… It’s for a friend. It was his favourite chess piece,” Clarke says. She feels like she has the need to explain, the need to justify her drawing as if she’s committing a crime by making it.

 

Lexa just gives her another short nod. “I have to work now. Just call if you need anything.”

 

She watches as Lexa joins Bellamy behind the counter and replies to something he has said. Her attention is back to the drawing, the impossible to finish drawing that’s been mocking her for months. Although Lexa said it was beautiful. Not that people don’t compliment her art often enough, Clarke’s been drawing since forever, and she’s taken classes from time to time. She’s confident in her skills, but that doesn’t make her art any less intimate, so she doesn’t usually show it unless she submits to a contest or something of the sort.

 

But there was something about the way Lexa commented on it. Something that had Clarke hanging on her seat, waiting for Lexa to elaborate on her words. And her eyes had looked really interested, and not the kind of interest that people usually fake when they don’t really think much of someone’s drawings. It had been genuine, and her eyes had been so green. A very beautiful green.

 

Clarke’s hands are working on a new piece of paper quicker than she can command them too. She’s an artist, sometimes inspiration will do this to her, drive her crazy with an insatiable need to create, and create, and create.

 

She doesn’t know how long she keeps going like that, focused on the only image in her head, but the light from outside started fading some time ago, and her fingers are smudged with charcoal. If it weren’t for the end result, she’d regretted not having brought her pencil colours with her. There’s no green in her drawing, but as she stares at the actual source of inspiration, she realises that the color may not be quite right, but the feeling is. So, she’s mostly happy with her work. And those are major words.

 

“Want a refill?” Bellamy’s voice startles her. His eyes pass over her drawing before she has time to avoid it. “Wow, that’s amazing. Wait… is that…?”

 

“Just a silly thing!” Clarke easily lies with light laughter. She smoothes the drawing before using the one of the chess knight to cover it. “You were saying something about a refill? I’ll pass, I think I’ve had enough caffeine for the day. Thanks, though.”

 

Bellamy gives her a strange look but shrugs and goes back to attend to the rest of the customers.

 

Clarke catches sight of Lexa serving a coffee order. When Lexa realises she’s staring, she offers Clarke an awkward wave. Clarke returns the gesture, amused. At this time of the day, there are only a few customers left, so once Lexa is finished with the only one who’s standing in line, she gives a quick look around the cafe and, assured that everything is settled, she starts walking towards Clarke.

 

That’s fine by Clarke, really. Or that’s what she tells herself, because the hand resting defensively on top of her sketchbook, where the eyes of the person walking towards her are hidden somewhere between the pages, suggests otherwise. She doesn’t regret her work, but she’s aware of the different reactions people can have when they find out you’ve used them as a source of inspiration without their knowledge.

 

She can’t picture Lexa as someone who would just let something like that sink in. Or maybe Lexa would be the kind to not bat a single eye and tell her, like before, that her art is beautiful. The thing is, she can’t picture Lexa as anything. She knows nothing about her, and the little things she finds out just leave her wanting more. That’s okay, Lexa seems like an interesting person. It’s just normal that Clarke would want to know more about her.

 

“Hey,” Lexa greets her when she reaches Clarke’s table. Her attention gets caught once again by the chess knight, that remains exactly the same as when she first saw it. “Artist block?”

 

“Something like that,” Clarke nods. Lexa must be thinking she’s done nothing but stare at that drawing for the past hours and, duh, Clarke has zero problems in her believing that. Besides, she  _ is  _ blocked, when it comes to that certain drawing at least.

 

Lexa nods with a little hum, like she understands, and Clarke wonders if she does. Lexa hesitantly sits across Clarke, slowly, as if she is waiting for Clarke to tell her to leave.

 

“I hear you are coming tomorrow to our game, Clarke?” She asks, her hands folded together on the table.

 

“Yeah, Raven told me to.”

 

“She can be very persuasive,” Lexa says as the edges of her lips lift a little. “Has she tried to drag you to the party afterwards, as well?”

 

“She didn’t have to tried that hard, really.” Clarke admits with a shrug.

 

“Well, I will also be there,” Lexa says. “Not the party, the game. I am the captain of the team, so I kind of have to be there. Playing.”

 

Clarke laughs, “Yeah, I figured.” Lexa tilts her chin, but relaxes when Clarke smiles. “Why not the party, though?” Clarke asks. “Not your style?”

 

“Yes and no,” Lexa states. “I do not despise parties, but I have things to do on Saturday morning. And partying with Raven and Octavia is… wild.”

 

Clarke hums, she knows about wild. Parties are her thing. Whatever Friday night brings to her, she’s confident it’s not going to be new for her. But that’s what happens when you’ve been going to a different party every weekend since you were fifteen.

 

“My shift is over,” Lexa says then, getting up. “I was wondering if you wanted to come home with me. Bellamy does not leave for another half an hour, so whichever option suits you best.”

 

Checking her phone for the time, Clarke starts gathering her things. “I think I’m ready to go, if that’s okay with you.”

 

“Of course, Clarke,” Lexa frowns slightly. “I offered.”

 

Clarke chuckles nervously, “Yeah, I guess.”

 

“I will be back in a minute, I’m going to get my things.”

 

Clarke nods and finishes putting everything away. True to her word, Lexa’s back in no time. They wave Bellamy goodbye and walk out of the cafe.

 

Riding with Lexa is much more different than with Bellamy. When Lexa gets in the car, the first thing she does is put on her seatbelt. Then, she checks the mirrors, which is something Clarke hasn’t even seen her mother do. After reassuring herself that everything is alright, Lexa gives Clarke a look and nods to herself when she sees that Clarke’s seatbelt is perfectly on.

 

(Clarke has to drown the urge to snort with all her power. If that’s not the most awkwardly amusing thing she’s ever seen in her life…)

 

After a while, Clarke takes in in the silence of the car. There’s no music nor station on, which doesn’t seem to bother Lexa at all. Her eyes haven’t left the road since she started the car. Problem is, Clarke has gotten used to Bellamy’s antics that she’s actually missing car karaoke more than she can admit to herself.

 

Although Clarke thinks it’s unlikely, maybe Lexa senses her mono for music, since she gives her a side glance (only because they’re stopped at a red light) and says, “You can play whatever you want, Clarke.”

 

Clarke considers rejecting the offer, but the silence is deafening. It may not have been in any other situation, but Lexa sitting straight and moving smoothly when she needs to are the only things Clarke can focus her attention on, and it’s starting to make her feel ridiculous.

 

She settles on a station that’s playing some pop song. Lexa doesn’t comment on her choice, but she does seem a bit more relaxed.

 

When they get to Vera’s house, they find Vera and Raven making dinner in the kitchen while Octavia watches TV and idly throws a basketball in the air to catch it swiftly. 

 

Octavia is the first one to notice their presence. “Hey, cap. Catch,” she throws the ball at Lexa, even though the angle makes Clarke think that it was directed to her face. Hell, if Lexa hadn’t caught it so smoothly, it would have hit her square in the nose.

 

“Octavia,” comes Vera’s voice from the kitchen. “how many times do I have to tell you not to play inside?”

 

“Sorry,” says Octavia, not sorry at all. “Don’t worry, Lexa and I are going to go play some shoots now.”

 

Octavia gets up from her spot on the couch, but Lexa shaking her head stops her. “I have a paper to write,” Lexa tells her. “Sorry, O.”

 

Octavia shrugs. “Okay, it’s almost dinner time, anyway.” She looks for a moment at Raven, setting the table with Clarke’s help. “Can I just have a moment with you in private? It’s not going to take long, I promise.”

 

“Sure,” Lexa says, gesturing Octavia to follow her upstairs.

 

Raven watches the interaction closely, sighing softly when they get out of sight. She’s fast to compose herself, as she turns her attention to Clarke answering Vera’s questions about her day. Vera opens the oven, the smell of dinner spreading all over the kitchen. Raven nearly moans, she’s hungry, and the food smells delicious.

 

“Not so fast, Raven,” Vera says with a knowing look, Raven’s intentions are written all over her face. “Not a single bite till Bellamy gets here.”

 

Raven rolls her eyes and ignores Clarke’s chuckle. She’s going to cut Bellamy’s hair in his sleep if he doesn’t get here soon.

 

* * *

 

Octavia sits on the bench outside the locker room. Her knee shakes up and down as she looks towards the other end of the hall, where people walk to the court. The game starts in ten minutes. The team is all inside, probably hearing some stupid speech from Titus.

 

She fastens her ponytail tightly. She has to come, she always comes. This is their thing, they always do this before a game. Octavia wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t come, though. She’s been trying to put Lexa’s advice on practice, but it’s always easier said than done. So things have stayed messed up.

 

She’s only appeased when Raven appears on her eyesight, making her way through the crowd of people. Octavia nearly jumps to her feet. Raven walks towards her in an unsure pace. Her cheeks are decorated with the number 14 in bright red paint. Octavia’s number. The sight of it has Octavia’s heart beating faster and faster.

 

“You came,” she breathes in relief when Raven finally reaches her.

 

“Of course I did,” Raven says. “I always do.”

 

Octavia swallows hard, “I’m sorry, I’ve been an idiot. It was so out of line and selfish of me to get mad at you for wanting-”

 

“Yes,” Raven cuts her. “Don’t think I’m letting you off the hook so quickly,” Octavia wants to end this and make things right with Raven, but the girl gives her a playful wink, “We’ll talk about that later,” she says. “Now, all you have to do is get out there and play your best.”

 

Octavia nods seriously, there’s no need for Raven to say it, really. But now that she’s told Octavia to, she’s going to win this no matter what. “Um… do you still want my jacket?” Octavia asks hesitantly.

 

It’s their thing. Raven will always come before her game begins to wish her good luck, and Octavia will always leave her letterman jacket with her, so that Raven can wear it and cheer from her seat. It’s got Octavia’s number on the back, with ‘Blake’ written above it. Octavia thinks that no one fits its red color better than Raven, and her heart beats wildly at the mere thought of Raven not wanting to wear it this time. She would totally get it, though.

 

Raven’s eyes soften, “Yeah,” she says, “everyone knows your sweaty asses can’t pull that thing as I can.”

 

Octavia rolls her eyes. She unzips her jacket and passes it to Raven, who wastes no time in putting it to good use. The sleeves are a bit long for her, just like they are for Octavia. She gives Octavia a little show, she twirls and extends her arms.

 

“Told you, it looks awesome on me.”

 

“Yes,” Octavia says fondly, “it does.”

 

They stare at each other. There are so many things Octavia wants to say, but Raven is right, they’ll have time for that later. She knows that despite this, she has a lot of work to do to fully earn Raven’s forgiveness. Because, let’s be real, sometimes she can be a complete asshole.

 

The team gets out of the locker room in that moment, Lexa at the front. Raven holds her hand up, receiving a high five from Lexa before the captain is off to lead her team. Titus isn’t far behind. He gives Octavia a scolding look, probably because she missed his speech again. Whatever, he knows he can’t afford not to have her on the team.

 

Raven grabs her arm in a soothing pat. She envelops Octavia in a hug, which makes her sigh against Raven’s neck. 

 

“Good luck.”

 

* * *

  
  


If she’s completely honest with herself, Clarke has no clue what’s going on. This is the first time she’s seen a basketball game, and the only experience she has with the sport is pretending to play when her P. E. teacher is looking. She knows that Lexa’s team is winning, but that’s mostly thanks to the score. However, she’s actually enjoying herself very much.

 

It’s hilarious watching Vera, Bellamy and Raven cheer as if their lives depend on it. They scream, eat snacks and take photos of everything. But most importantly, they are each wearing face paint, caps and t-shirts with ‘Woods’ and ‘Blake’ on them, which makes Clarke feel kind of overdressed. She didn’t know what to wear, but she figures that the Dior sleeveless blouse wasn’t the best choice,  considering everyone else is wearing sports themed clothes. At least she picked one that is plainly blue, because God knows she has much more luxurious items.

  
  


“I didn’t think it was possible,” Bellamy says, “but O and Lexa have improved so much over the holidays. I know how good they are, I’ve watched every single one of their games. But honestly, they’re playing amazingly today.”

 

“They’ve been practicing really hard this year,” Vera says. “Sometimes I worry they’re going to collapse. Especially Lexa, she hardly takes a break.”

 

Raven looks at Clarke, who’s understandably lost in the conversation. “Lexa’s hoping to get a sports scholarship,” she explains. “Which I don’t think she should worry about that much, because if she doesn’t, just her grades are enough to get her anywhere she wants.”

 

“And obviously my sister is eager to practice with Lexa 24/7,” Bellamy says with a roll of his eyes.

 

“He’s just jealous that they outplayed him long ago,” Raven smirks at Clarke. 

 

“Ah, well, I barely know what’s going on, so no need to be ashamed,” Clarke jokes.

 

“Not much of a basketball fan, huh?” Vera asks, though she doesn’t take her eyes apart from the video camera she’s been recording the whole game with.

 

“Not much of a sports fan, actually,” she shrugs. “I used to love watching soccer with my dad. But the active part of it it’s never been my thing.”

 

“Same here, darling. I’m just here to be supportive and to record everything to send it to Anya.” After a moment, Vera realises Clarke doesn’t know who she’s talking about. “Anya was the first kid I fostered. She’s in college now, but maybe you’ll get to meet her when she comes to visit.”

 

Clarke nods, but the conversation is cut shut by a roar from the crowd. Bellamy tenses by her side when he sees Octavia being pushed to the ground. They all relax when Lexa helps her up, no injuries visible. Octavia nods to whatever Lexa has told her, and the game resumes.

 

They’re fierce, Clarke notices, not for the first time. Fierce but carefree and in their element. She’s curious about this version of Octavia, who doesn’t seem like she’s fighting the world. And Lexa just looks so focused and in control. She commands, she’s carrying the team on her shoulders, and Clarke’s fingers ache for a canvas and a pencil. 

 

The game is over before she knows it and yeah, time does fly when you’re having fun. She follows the others to the parking lot, where they wait for Octavia and Lexa. 

 

“So, about the party tonight,” Raven says, looking at Bellamy. “Will you be our DD?”

 

“Yes,” Bellamy sighs. “But I’m coming over to Gina’s, so just text me when you’re ready to leave.”

 

Raven smirks, “Great.”

 

Vera places a hand on Clarke’s shoulder. “Careful, Clarke. This one is a danger. I’m terrified every time they go out.”

 

“Hey!” Raven crosses her arms, “I’ve been partying with Clarke, I’m not the one you should be worried about,” she says playfully. Clarke chuckles. “Besides, Lexa’s coming, so you can relax, Mrs K.”

 

“You convinced her?” Bellamy asks.

 

“Yeah,” Raven says. “It wasn’t really hard. I’m just really good at reading people.”

 

Clarke’s confused when Raven sends a smirk her way, but doesn’t comment on it, since she can see Lexa and Octavia approaching them.

 

“Here are my champions!” Vera envelops them both in an embrace. “I got everything on tape. Even the cheerleading dance.”

 

“Really?” Raven’s ears perk up at that. “I wouldn’t mind rewatching that. Right, Clarke?”

 

“I can’t really say that it was my favourite part,” she says with a shrug.

 

Raven gasps and dramatically takes a hand to her chest, showing the betrayal she’s feeling.

 

“Come on,” Vera rolls her eyes. “I’ll drop all of you off at Harper’s so that this boy,” she pats Bellamy’s back, “can go spend some time with his girlfriend.

 

“Shotgun!” says Octavia, immediately getting in the passenger seat of Vera’s car.

  
  


* * *

 

 

What Clarke didn’t know when she agreed to come, was that normal high school parties aren’t as fancy as the ones she usually goes to. And she doesn’t mean the champagne and classic background live music that she has to go with her mother at least twice a year, but her classmates usually go for a more expensive taste than sweatshirts and trainers. In fact, she figures that, since this is mostly a team party, everyone just got here with their clothes from the game. Although she feels overdressed, she’s glad to know that next time she’ll be able to dress in such a comfortable way.

 

They lost Octavia and Lexa to a game of beer pong when they first got here, and Clarke will admit that she was relieved to have Octavia away from her for the night. Mostly, all she’s done is drink and dance with Raven, but the girl excused herself a while ago since she wanted to sit and rest her leg.

 

Clarke doesn’t mind being left alone, though. She’s found herself a new dance partner in no time. He grips her waist and presses her against him. She’s having fun dancing with him, and it’s been some time since she last got laid. 

 

He dives in and kisses her, using too much tongue. That and his hands instantly gripping her butt, before she’s actually kissed him back, change her mind about him. She pushes him away.

 

“Come on, babe,” he says, chasing after her. “Don’t you wanna spend some quality time?”

 

“No,” Clarke says. “Certainly not with you.”

 

He puffs his chest, and pretends he thinks she’s crazy. Frankly, it’s ridiculous. 

 

“Whatever. What a diva, man.”

 

Clarke’s not going to let something like that spoil her night, though she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that just added to her discomfort of feeling out of place. 

 

She’s not sure whether to go for another drink or look for Raven, but her question is answered when a body suddenly bumps into her. Looking up, she realises it’s Lexa, all flushed cheeks and excited eyes. Unlike her, Lexa is in her element here. She’s still wearing her after the game clothes, meaning she’s dressed in simple jeans, black converse, and her team jacket.

 

Yeah, Clarke thinks as Lexa runs a hand through her wild hair, this girl is completely in place.

 

“Hello, Clarke.” She sounds a little bit drunk, but not wasted. She offers a cup to Clarke, “I got this for you.”

 

“What is it?” Clarke asks, even though she’s already taken a sip and god, whatever it is, it’s delicious.

 

“It’s my own special mix. I made it, I make terrific drinks,” Lexa tells her. “Raven said I should make one for you.”

 

Clarke takes another sip. “It tastes like heaven. What’s in it?”

 

“Sh,” Lexa takes a finger to her mouth and winks at Clarke. “It’s a secret.”

 

It nearly makes Clarke blush, but she’ll be damned if she loses her cool so fast. “I would never had guessed that you had such incredible skills.”

 

Lexa shrugs, playing along. “You never asked.”

 

“In my defense, you told me you were not coming.”

 

“I also told you,” she gives Clarke a pointed look. “that Raven can be really persuasive if she wants to.”

 

Clarke hums. She’s already finished her incredible drink, but she doesn’t feel in the mood to dance anymore. “Okay, so I have a challenge for you.”

 

Lexa lifts one perfect eyebrow and smirks. “Issue your challenge, then.”

 

“Shots battle. The first who surrenders loses,” she says confidently. Shots are her thing. She’s the queen of shots. “If I win, you tell me your super secret alcohol ingredients.”

 

Somehow, Lexa’s closer than before. Her little smirk hasn’t left her mouth, but her eyes shine with bright new mischief. “And If I win?”

 

Clarke shrugs, “I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

 

“Whatever, huh?” Clarke thinks that maybe Lexa is a bit more drunk than what it seems, because she can’t imagine her sober version so open to that idea. “Okay, I accept your challenge.”

 

The first shot burns her throat, and she glows with the feeling. Lexa holds her own for the next two, her blushing becoming deeper. The color in her cheeks makes contrast with her green eyes, and Clarke aches again for something to immortalise Lexa in. (This being inspired by Lexa thing is getting out of control.)

 

“This is quite boring,” Lexa comments, licking the last shot off her lips.

 

“Is that so?” Clarke teases cheekily. “Or are you just afraid you’ll lose?”

 

“Actually, I’m afraid that I’ll win this very quickly if we keep going like this,” Lexa grins. “How about we answer a question after every shot?”

 

“Okay,” Clarke easily accepts the idea. “No lame questions though. Nothing like ‘what’s your favourite color’ or things like that.”

 

“What?” Lexa frowns. “No, of course not. I meant really challenging questions, Clarke. I’ll go first: What’s the atmosphere of Saturn made up of?”

 

Clarke’s laughter cascades out of her mouth. However, when Lexa continues staring at her, she thinks that maybe Lexa was actually serious about the question.

 

“Wait,” she frowns. “Like, for real?”

 

Lexa’s facade splits in a grin then, and Clarke laughs again, half relieved half shocked that Lexa played her like that.

 

“I never pegged you for the type to have such a sense of humour.”

 

“Your determination to be surprised every time I do something mildly normal is astonishingly constant,” Lexa tells her, amusement lacing her words. “I’m not a machine, Clarke. I have fun every once in awhile.”

 

Clarke smiles sheepishly at that. “Sorry. You just, seem really at ease tonight. It’s a bit of a change from what I’ve seen at Vera’s house.”

 

“I suppose you have a point,” Lexa accepts with a shrug.

 

“So here we are,” Clarke jokes, “out of the two of us, you’re the one feeling confident in a party.”

 

“Are you not comfortable?” Lexa asks, genuinely surprised. “How so?”

 

Clarke vaguely gestures to her clothing. “I guess I should have chosen a better outfit for tonight. This isn’t doing much to help me fit in. You kind of saved my night, actually.”

 

“I think what you’re wearing is just fine, Clarke,” Lexa frowns. “You look very beautiful.”

 

Clarke blushes, the new redness on her cheeks threatens to beat Lexa’s. “Gotta admit it’s kinda out of place, though.”

 

“Well, in that case,” Lexa shrugs. “I know how to fix that.”

 

Clarke watches confused as Lexa takes off her team jacket. Her eyebrows slightly raise when she figures out what Lexa is trying to do. She takes Lexa’s jacket searching with confirmation that Lexa gladly offers with a reassuring nod.

 

The jacket’s soft and warm against her bare arms. It fits her perfectly, hanging around her frame in a way that adds to the style. She looks up to find Lexa staring at her in such a way that she has to clear her throat and look away again.

 

Whatever awkwardness is created in that moment, it’s soon broken when someone wearing a team jacket walks up to them and addresses Lexa.

 

“Hey, captain! We’re starting another beer pong game, wanna play?”

 

“Sure,” Lexa answers. She looks at Clarke, smirk in place again. “If Clarke wants to be my partner?”

 

“Ah,” Clarke says. “Good choice.”

 

* * *

  
  
“Hey,” Octavia sits down on the couch where Raven is. “Is it okay for me to be here?”

 

“Yes,” Raven answers. She rests her head on Octavia’s shoulder and closes her eyes.

 

“Have you been smoking?” Octavia asks, noticing the smell and the heavy eyelids of the girl.

 

“Yes, a little.”

 

“Probably not the best moment to talk, then.”

 

“No,” Raven says. “But stay. You feel nice.”

 

“You’re kind of high,” Octavia chuckles, “of course I feel nice.”

 

“You always feel nice,” Raven argues. “Not just when I’m high.”

 

Octavia gulps and takes a long sip of her drink, downing it. She sighs at the empty bottom of the cup and leaves it on the table next to the couch. “Are you ready to leave now?” she asks Raven. “You look tired.”

 

Raven shakes her head against Octavia’s neck. “Lexa’s having a lot of fun. I wanna give her some time.”

 

Octavia searches for Lexa, twisting her head in an attempt to scan the house from where she’s sitting without having to leave Raven’s side. She finds Lexa immersed in some weird shot competition with none other than Griffin. She scoffs, Lexa’s grinning like an idiot at her. She’s relaxed and close to her, and Octavia doesn’t get why everyone is losing her shit over that brat.

 

“If you want to make things right, you could start by giving Clarke a break,” Raven says, having caught her in her train of thought.

 

“Do you like her or something?” Octavia lets out before she can help it. She bites her tongue, knowing she’s close to messing up again.

 

“Yeah. I like her,” Raven lifts her head from her shoulder and looks at her. “Clarke’s funny, intelligent and really, really nice.”

 

“I don’t mean in that way.”

 

She wishes she could shut up, but the alcohol in her system isn’t helping.

 

“No,” Raven says after a beat that feels infinitive. “I don’t like her in that other way.”

 

Octavia bites the inside of her cheek. She shouldn’t feel relieved about that. She has no reason to, she has no right to. Yet, she does. She gently caresses Raven’s forearm, with a silent question, afraid that her touch will be rejected. Her doubts are erased when Raven returns her head to Octavia’s shoulder and eases against her.

 

“It’s not fair, you know.” Raven says, with a seriousness that lets Octavia know that she wouldn't be saying this if she wasn’t high. “It’s not fair that you make me feel like this.”

 

Octavia swallows. Hard. “Trust me,” she says, “I know.”

  
  


* * *

 

 

Bellamy’s phone lights up. He grabs it from the night table and opens his new message. It’s from his sister, telling him they are ready to leave the party. He sighs at the time. It’s 2am and he’s been trying not to fall asleep with all his might, rereading the same page of a book, since words stopped making sense hours ago. He gets up from the bed, careful not to wake Gina up, and searches for his pants. 

 

When he’s dressed, he kisses Gina’s cheeks and she sighs against the pillow. 

 

“You’re leaving?” She asks sleepily, her eyes still closed.

 

“Yes,” he says softly, making sure she’s not completely thrown awake by his voice.

 

“Make sure the girls drink a glass of water before going to bed,” she reminds him.

 

“I will,” he promises. “Sleep well. I love you.”

 

Her muffled answer on the pillow makes him smile tenderly.

 

Driving in the night is not the same as during the day. He’s got no music on, he’s completely focused on the road, in case some asshole decided to take their car while intoxicated.

 

Predictably, he’s met with four wasted teenagers that will regret their actions in the morning. He tries really hard not to growl when he looks on the rear-view mirror and catches Octavia and Raven drifting off against each other because he’s spent a lot of time listening to the girls’ feminism rants and he works hard everyday not to fall into the animalistic behaviour he would hate for anyone else to have. But also, Octavia is his little sister, and he can’t help but to have certain feelings in certain situations. (Which he knows doesn’t make it okay for him to behave in such a way, and he tries hard to remind himself of that.)

 

(And also, even if he won’t say it out loud, a part of him is glad that it’s Raven the one who’s arm is currently resting around his sister’s shoulders.)

 

When they make it home, he gets out of the car and opens Raven’s door. The girl has fallen asleep, and as Lexa and Clarke exit the car, he knows that they’re not far behind. He gets ready to lift Raven up to her room, but of course Octavia decides to be a piece of work in that moment.

 

“You don’t have to carry her,” she tells him. “I can carry her. I’m not weak.”

 

“I know,” he says, turning to look at her. “You're strong, you can carry her, I know that. But you’re drunk and sleepy, and I’m not. So a bit safer if I do it, okay?”

 

She nods seriously. “Okay. Safer tonight, yes.”

 

He smiles, “Can you go grab you both some water while I take her to her room?”

 

She nods again and takes a few steps to the house before coming back and hugging him. He hugs her back. Moments like this with Octavia are rare, and he keeps them all in a special place no one could ever take away from him.

 

* * *

 

It’s ridiculous, the alcohol is making a fool out of her brain, and she’ll feel very, very ridiculous in the morning. She takes another sip of water, as if that’s going to help in any way against the massive headache she’ll have when she wakes up. Yeah, maybe next time she shouldn’t act so confident about her ability to hold her alcohol, much less against someone who actually can, like Clarke.

 

Lexa wonders how it is possible that Clarke is still as sober as she was before all the drinking mess. Correction, she wonders how Clarke looks that sober, because she knows she’s much more drunk that she’s letting on. She has been drinking with her all night, after all.

 

“So,” Clarke says when they reach the door of her room. It’s not like Lexa’s dropping her off or something. Her own room is literally five steps ahead. It’s completely ridiculous that that thought crossed her mind at all. Her drunk mind, Lexa tells herself. “You owe me some delicious receipt.”

 

“Do I?” she asks, leaning on the wall. “If I remember correctly, neither of us won.”

 

Clarke sighs quietly, “It was worth a shot.”

 

“Too many shots, actually,” Lexa groans closing her eyes. Clarke laughs in a whisper, aware that other people are actually trying to sleep, and the gentleness of it has Lexa opening her eyes to look at her again. “Did you end up having fun?”

 

“I did,” Clarke says. She remembers that the comfortable jacket she’s wearing doesn’t belong to her and takes it off. “Thank you.”

 

Lexa doesn’t want to think that this is the part where she tells the girl to keep her jacket, so that she can have an excuse to see her again. Which is ridiculous and she is ridiculous, she literally lives with the girl in question, she’s going to see her when she wakes up, regretting all of this. And, as of right now? She’s going to blame her thoughts on the alcohol.

 

“You’re welcome,” she says, taking the jacket back.

 

“ Seventy-five percent hydrogen, twenty five-percent helium, and other substances like methane and water ice.”

 

Lexa frowns, feeling more confused than her expression cares to admit. She’s not sure whether that sentence actually came out of Clarke’s mouth or she’s making things up. She doesn’t want to make this whole blaming it on the alcohol a thing, but if she weren’t this drunk maybe she’d managed not to look like an idiot right now. “What?” she asks.

 

“You asked what the atmosphere of Saturn is made up of,” Clarke remembers her with a cheeky smile. “There’s your answer.”

 

Lexa blinks, because she’s sure that it’s not fair for Clarke to be so beautiful and so intelligent while she’s wasted and standing on her feet thanks to a wall. (She thinks that it’s not fair for Clarke to be so beautiful and so intelligent under any circumstance at all, but considering there’s already a ton of things she’s going to regret in the morning, she’s choosing to erase that thought.)

 

At her lack of words, Clarke opens the door to her room and send one last look her way. “Goodnight, Lexa.”

 

“Goodnight, Clarke,” she barely manages to say.

 

And with that, Clarke’s door closes and Lexa’s left standing on the hallway, with the feeling in her stomach of something she knows it’s not completely the alcohol’s fault, but that’s a problem for another day.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW this one took very long, but in my defense, it's the longest one yet and it took time for me to be able to write it after the whole 307 mess. But also, this sets the official starting line for Clarke and Lexa's feelings to start coming out, so things should move on a bit quicker after this.
> 
> And, if you'd be so kind as to leave a comment with your opinion about the chapter/story, or just anything you'd like to say about the fic, I would appreciate that a lot and it always helps to keep me motivated, so if you have something to say, don't hesitate.
> 
> Come find me on my tumblr, sometimes i post random thoughts about what I'm writing, and also questions about the story are really fun to answer: http://bihedaclarke.tumblr.com/


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> clarke and lexa think too highly of each other, octavia and raven are Best Friends^TM get deep during an ice cream date, and murphy makes his first appearance and is... well, murphy.

She doesn’t have a hangover. What her body has to say about that is irrelevant, if Clarke says she doesn’t have a hangover, then she doesn’t have a hangover. It’s 11 am, which is actually a good time to wake up after partying. She's got a text from Monty, god thank him, asking her how the party went. Rather than replying, she hits the call button and makes her way to the stand-up mirror in her room.

 

“Hey, love.”

 

“Good morning,” she says to Monty and to her reflection. She did manage to get all her makeup off last night so no worries in that department. However, the hair… “How was the party?”

 

“Oh, you know Murphy,” he says, his voice screaming boredom. “He let it all out, cops came before 10.”

 

“That's much earlier than his usual,” Clarke comments, almost surprised. There's not really anything at this point that surprises her about John Murphy.

 

“I think he was really just trying to piss off Mr Bennet. You know, the next door neighbor that—”

 

“Yes, I know who Mr Bennet is, Monty.” She probably knows him better than her own neighbors. After all, she's spent more time at that house than at her own home, but she doesn't say that. 

 

“Right.” There's a thick silence and Clarke gathers her things for the shower with a sigh. “Anyway,” Monty’s voice returns, “how was  _ your _ party?”

 

Clarke smiles without meaning to. “Actually, it was really fun. I had a great time.” Boy, she really did. Shots and beer pong? Her two favourite sports.

 

“Really? Your last text didn't show that.”

 

“It was a bit awkward at first, duh. It was Lexa and Octavia’s team party, so it wasn't like crowded, but there were a lot of people. And they were all kind of sporty, and I wasn't, at all. So that part wasn't my favourite moment, but then…” She has to bite her lip to keep another smile from taking over her face, because the mental image of drunk Lexa proudly holding her mix drink out for her is a bit too much in the state she's in. “Lexa and I did shots and after that she invited me to play beer pong with her teammates. And she's really fun. I mean they're all are, I'll bring you next time.”

 

“Sure,” Monty says. She can hear the smile in his voice, which makes her roll her eyes a little.

 

“I'm going to shower then have some breakfast. Talk to you later?”

 

“Definitely. Bye, love.”

 

The shower washes her anew. There’s steam everywhere, but she couldn’t care less. she misses her bathtub and her bubbles and god, the water massages, but hot water is still hot water. She wonders if she can count this line of thought as progress. Probably yes, her mum would be proud.

 

Another disadvantage of living with five other people is the fact that she can’t just hang around wearing whatever she wants. At home, it’s just her and her mother, but Abby is almost always away, so underwear and a t-shirt works just fine. But the thought of having to be dressed the whole day, on a weekend, makes her want to run barefoot back to her house and lock herself in her room. She won’t though, because she’s making progress. She settles on the most plain pair of jeans she has, she’s not about to put sweatpants, she doesn’t even own a pair to begin with. She grabs a black hoodie that she managed to saved from her father’s belongings and puts it on, enjoying its softness for a moment.

 

She goes downstairs with the hopeful assumption that she’ll find no one in the kitchen but, of course, that’s just too good to be true. Octavia and Lexa are having breakfast in what seems to be their training clothes, given by their school colours and their names on their backs. Not to be rude, but seeing their sweaty appearances, Clarke can only guess they had practice this morning. She’s about to discard that thought, because it was their team party last night, but then she remembers Lexa’s captain and suddenly it doesn’t seem such a crazy thought.

 

She clears her throat, making her presence known. “Good morning.”

 

Octavia offers a grunt, which is better than nothing, as she stuffs her mouth with a whole donut and plays with the basketball at the table. Clarke thinks Vera would kick her ass for doing that, but she’s not about to climb even higher on Octavia’s black list. 

 

“Hey,” Lexa says, holding her eyes for a second before dropping her own to her breakfast. 

 

Clarke thinks she’s almost blushing, and she wonders if that has anything to do with their interactions of last night. She controls the smile that’s making her way to her face just thinking about it. But last night was fun, and Clarke panics for a moment as she thinks that it may change things with Lexa. She saw a complete different side of the girl, one that she enjoyed very much. But she doesn’t know whether Lexa regrets it. Whatever, they were both drunk. They’re big girls, and it’s not like they made  out or anything. She’s probably just overthinking.

 

Octavia gives another grunt when she realises Clarke’s there to stay, then she wordlessly picks her ball and leaves. Clarke sighs, but at least Octavia didn’t try to pick up a fight at this hour of the morning, so, bright side.

 

She grabs the milk from the fridge, some cereal and, if only she could remember where the bowls are. She opens the first cupboard, which hides cans of food. The next one is full of glasses and mugs. She closes it, knowing she’s making a fool out of herself. Fortunately, third time’s a charm. Unfortunately, the bowls are too high for her to reach. 

 

She tries to get one but has no luck, barely touching it. She knows there’s no way she’s getting a bowl without causing a disaster in the kitchen, and she’s just mustering her courage to turn around and sweetly ask Lexa for help when a hand reaches out behind her and seizes a bowl.

 

When she turns around, Lexa stands before her, amusement written in her face. She hands the bowl to Clarke. “Bellamy likes to put things on high shelves where Octavia won’t reach,” Lexa tells her, lips pursed in a little smirk.

 

“I could have reached it,” Clarke says, fully aware that they both know that’s bullshit. She takes the bowl with a tilt of her head and sets herself on the kitchen island. Lexa follows suit, getting back to her breakfast. “Besides, you’re not that tall,” she says, not bothering to look at Lexa.

 

“I am taller than you, though.” Lexa doesn’t look at her either, too engrossed with stirring her coffee the right amount of times. “And I’m a basketball player, I can reach high.”

 

Clarke rolls her eyes. “Must be all the practice you get, then. How does training even work after drinking your body weight on shots?” She smirks when Lexa fails to hide her blush, sipping from her cup in an attempt to look unaffected. “Tell me,  _ captain _ ,” Clarke articulates the word slowly, taking enormous pleasure in the delicious pink of Lexa’s cheeks. “What did your team think when you showed up to your own practice completely hungover?”

 

“I’m not hungover,” Lexa denies. 

 

Clarke hums, taking a spoonful of cereal. Lexa’s reading the paper as she has breakfast, and that’s such an adult thing to do that Clarke’s not even surprised by Lexa doing it.

 

They have breakfast in silence, only the sound of Lexa turning pages every few seconds. Lexa stands then, taking hers and Octavia’s abandoned dish and cleaning up before awkwardly gesturing towards the stairs. “I’m going to, uh, go take a shower.” She stands still for a second, like she’s waiting to say something else, before shaking her head to herself and turning her back to Clarke. Clarke snorts quietly watching her go. Who would have known basketball shorts are actually amazing when it’s not a guy who’s wearing them.

 

* * *

  
  


“You can’t get vanilla and chocolate at the same time, that’s absolutely disgusting,” Octavia says as she fakes a shiver.

 

“It’s still better than oreo and mint  _ and  _ stracciatella.”

 

“What’s wrong with a little variety?” Octavia shrugs.

 

“Stracciatella is already varied on it’s own,” Raven retorts, making Octavia roll her eyes at the need of the girl to back everything with facts. “Besides I wanted to get ice cream in the first place, so you don’t get to mock my choices, much less when yours are so poor.”

 

“Well, I’m paying so I can get anything I want,” Octavia says, she puts her hands on her hips and raises an eyebrow at Raven. “Other people just say ‘thank you’ when they’re being treated to ice cream.”

 

“We have the same source of income, Pocahontas. Your money is my money.” Raven bumps Octavia’s shoulder with her own and takes a step ahead so she can order first. She sticks her tongue at Octavia, knowing full well Octavia is trying to make up to her and won’t try to discourage her. 

 

“So,” Octavia clears her throat, “we should probably talk.”

 

“We should,” Raven says. She’s got her ice cream, they’re sitting in a nice booth by the window, with no one bothering them. And yet, she doesn’t feel ready at all.

 

Octavia takes a breath. It’s all or nothing. “Um, I’m sorry that I got mad about you wanting to have your privacy and intimacy with therapy,” Octavia swallows, eyes fixed on her ice cream. “That wasn’t my place, and I’m sorry that I put my feelings before yours when clearly this is not about me.”

 

“Okay.”   
  


“Also I’m sorry that I shut you down after doing all that,” Octavia continues. She aches to touch Raven, but doesn’t dare to reach forward. “And also I’m sorry that I was a dick about Lexa getting to take you to therapy and be with you and stuff.”

 

“Okay,” Raven repeats. She lets out a big sigh. “You know it’s not that I don’t trust you, right?” She asks, finally looking at her. Raven takes Octavia’s hand on her own, to both of their relief. “Sometimes I think the problem is that I trust you too much, actually.” She takes her time, while Octavia waits patiently. “It’s just that I… the thought of you seeing me fail when I’m having a hard time at therapy is sort of terrifying.”

 

“Hey, you don’t owe me any explanation,” Octavia reassures her. She takes Raven’s hand to her mouth and places a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

 

“Well, I kind of do,” Raven shakes her head. “You’re my best friend, Octavia. I love you, and I would want to support you and be there for you when you’re having a bad day. And if you didn’t want me to, well, it would suck.” Raven smiles sadly, her mind suddenly lost. She meets Octavia’s eyes with her own and takes a deep breath. “So I do understand why you got angry about me not wanting you there when I’m at therapy.”

 

“Yeah, but still-”

 

“I’m not saying it was the right thing to do, because it wasn’t,” Raven cuts her apology. “I’m saying that I get why you reacted that way.” Octavia nods, gesturing at Raven to go on. “I don’t want you to be disappointed by my slow progress. I know it’s silly, but it kind of scares me. I keep thinking that I’m going to let you down or something. I don’t know, it’s really stupid.”

 

“It’s not,” Octavia says, sitting on the edge of her seat so that her knees are touching Raven’s legs. “Your feelings are not stupid,” she reassures Raven with the gentlest of voices and she thinks, for a moment, that Lexa would clap her back for that statement. “So you’re intimidated by me watching you progress?”

 

“Um, I guess?” Ice cream forgotten, Raven takes her free hand to her hair, tugging at a lock to hide her uncomfort. “It’s just really... slow? And it disappoints me that I can’t go any faster so I just keep thinking that you would be disappointed as well? And I know my recovery is mine and only mine but you’re the person I trust most in the world,” Raven stops her rambling with a shrug. She tries to smile when Octavia squeezes her hand, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

 

“You’re my favourite person in the world. You’re my best friend, and I love you so much,” Octavia says in a whisper. “You put up with all my shit, and we both know there’s a lot of it.” They both smile at that. Raven presses her legs stronger into Octavia’s. “If you’re worried that I’m going to be a dick about your recovery, then you probably have reasons to be, cause I’m a dick about a lot of things.” Raven snorts, shaking her head. “But also, we’ve read a lot of stuff on the internet together, right? I know you won’t magically be cured or something. I’m not  _ expecting _ you to be, Raven. You’re being treated so that you can stop hurting, and that’s all I care about. And if I’ve ever made you felt like I’m just waiting for you to be cured, I-”

 

“You haven’t,” Raven is quick to interrupt her. “I’ve never felt that way with you. That’s why this is so stupid and irrational, you’ve been so good about this. I feel so comfortable around you. Just not when it comes to therapy.”

 

Octavia nods. “It’s okay if you aren’t. And much better if you’re okay with Lexa helping you through it, I’m just relieved that you have someone you trust, and that I too trust with my life, to be there with you.”

 

Raven hums. “I want you to come with me, eventually. When I’m ready.”

 

“We can take it as slow as you want,” Octavia says. “I’m sorry that I pushed you to make a call.”

 

“Honestly, I’m a bit surprised at your conversation skills.” Raven teases her, getting a bit of chocolate on Octavia’s nose.

 

“Ha, funny. But true, you’re right.” Octavia wipes the chocolate with her hand, then wipes her hand with her tongue. “I may have gone a bit hulk mode on Lexa and she may have slapped me in the face with the facts. Not literally, of course.” She offers Raven an ashamed shrug, she does feel embarrassed about going off at Lexa.

 

“You did, didn’t you?” Raven sighs, but dismisses it after a moment. “Well, I’m glad it turned out this way.”

 

“Me too.” Octavia licks her lips, unsure. “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you. You’re my best friend.”   
  


Raven smiles, and maybe, if she smiles hard enough, being Octavia’s best friend would be enough. (It’s not.)

 

* * *

 

Lexa takes off her glasses and rubs her eyes tiredly, they burn. That’s to be expected, considering she’s spent the whole weekend glued to her laptop, trying to get all her projects done at once. Needless to say, she’s had a blast. However, she’s relieved to have finished them all. She just needs to look over her English essay and she’ll be officially done with homework.

 

She may dismiss it every time someone mentions it, but being the basketball captain, the student body president, and having a part-time job really messes up her schedule. But she doesn’t care how hard it is, she’s building up a future, and so far, she’s done a great job. 

 

She sends her essay as soon as she’s satisfied with it. It’s 5 pm, which means she only has this short Sunday afternoon to rest before Monday rolls over again. Well, better than no time at all, she’ll have to make do. She could watch a movie or something. Some popcorn would be nice. That’s settled, then. 

 

Lexa walks into the kitchen, hoping there is popcorn left. The odds are on her favour, it seems, and her stomach growls with anticipation. She stands by the stove as she waits for the popcorn to be done, trying to decide what to watch.

 

Just then, she hears a car outside and the front door being opened seconds later. Vera’s in the garden, Bellamy’s sleeping over at Gina’s, Raven and Octavia are upstairs, so that leaves…

 

“Hey,” Clarke greets her.

 

“Hey,” Lexa repeats. It seems like the casual thing to say. Totally Clarke. “Did you have fun with your friend?”

 

Clarke shrugs. “As much fun as someone can have when you spend the whole day doing homework,” she says with a sigh. 

 

Lexa hums in appreciation. She turns to stop the cooking, popcorn is done and smells delicious. A thought crosses her mind and she turns to Clarke, clearing her throat. “I was just about to take a break myself. Do you want to join me? I made some popcorn.”

 

“Oh,” Clarke says after a mild long pause in which Lexa tries not to frown and take her words back. “Um, if you’re sure? I wouldn’t want to impose.”

 

Lexa gives her her back again, trying to hide her nerves while she puts the popcorn in a bowl. “Yeah, no, you’re not imposing. I invited you, Clarke. So not imposing, for sure.” She bites her lip now that Clarke can’t see her, and she has to use every muscle in her body not to slap herself on the face out of embarrassment. “That is unless you have better things to do, or don’t want to, of course.” She finally turns to look at Clarke, who’s glancing back at her with her head tilt to the side. “That’s also totally cool.”

 

“So,” Clarke says, amusement evident in her voice. “What are we watching?”

 

Lexa almost lets out a breath, and she thanks the universe she didn’t, because that would be the only thing that could make this any more awkward. “I haven’t thought of anything, yet. Any suggestions?” She grabs the bowl of popcorn and makes her way past Clarke and up the stairs. She can hear Clarke’s footsteps behind her, and she clings the popcorn with all her might.

 

“Game of Thrones?”

 

Lexa looks at Clarke with horror filled eyes. “No, Clarke. They’ve outrun the books. I can’t watch that show.”

 

Clarke swallows a snort. Of course Lexa would have read those huge ass books. “Okay, but let me tell you, in last episode-”

 

“If you say one more word I’ll…”

 

“What?” Clarke bats her eyelids, not fooling anyone. “I was just going to say that Natalie Dormer looked really good.”

 

Lexa narrows her eyes at her. She opens the door to her room, revealing soft green walls, the tidiest desk Clarke’s ever seen... actually, the room itself is the tidiest thing Clarke’s ever seen. Lexa sits down on her bed, onto the matching green covers, and raises an eyebrow at Clarke. Clarke walks up to her, sitting next to Lexa on Lexa’s bed. It’s not like she hasn’t sat with people on their beds before. This is totally normal. She’s feeling totally normal.

 

“What about Orange is the new black?” She asks, because that seems like the right thing to propose.

 

Lexa shrugs. “Okay. I guess it’s time for me to know what that’s about. Raven doesn’t shut up about it.”

 

Genuine confusion fills Clarke. “Wait, what? You’ve never watched it?” Lexa shakes her head, unbothered by the incredulity in Clarke’s voice. “How have you not watched the gayest show ever? You’re gay.”

 

“The media hasn’t done a good job of portraying queer communities so far, and even with-”

 

“I’d love to sit here with you and discuss all the misrepresentation in the media,” Clarke says. “But, honestly? We wouldn’t see the end of it. And I’m really, really tired. So can we just watch it, please?”

 

Lexa breathes in at her pleading eyes. “Of course, Clarke.”

 

They watch in a comfortable silence, only accompanied by the low sound of popcorn being chewed. At one point, what Lexa had feared happens: their hands bump into each other in the bowl. 

 

The both do poor jobs of hiding their blushes. Clarke is getting tired of this cliche feeling of awkwardness. She hadn’t felt like this on Friday night, but she guesses the alcohol had a much bigger effect on them than she was willing to admit. The worst part of it is that she actually really enjoys Lexa’s company. The girl is comforting, in her own silent kind of way. She wants to be Lexa’s friend. She’s in Lexa’s room, on Lexa’s bed, because Lexa invited her to be here. So, why can’t she shake this shyness away? Clarke’s not shy, far from it. Actually, she’s going to change this right now.

 

“You know, you weren’t this shy when there was alcohol involved,” she says. She makes sure her voice is playful, so that Lexa falls into her joking.

 

“Yes, alcohol makes people lose their inhibitions, Clarke.” Lexa clears her throat, eyes fixed on the screen of her laptop.

 

“And what inhibitions did it make you lose?” Clarke cheekily asks, eating a handful of popcorn.

 

Lexa swallows. “Well, it was easier talking to you,” Clarke’s about to feel offended, but Lexa gives her a calm look. “You are sort of intimidating. Not in a bad way.”

 

Clarke’s eyes open wide. “I am intimidating? Me?” She shakes her head with an incredulous chuckle. “Have you ever met yourself? Lexa, you’re like the most intimidating person I know.” Clarke smiles a little. “Don’t take it the wrong way, it’s a good intimidating. You’re just so cool, I guess.”

 

“You guess?” Lexa asks her, in that playful tone Clarke had been looking forward to hear since the ending of Friday’s night.

 

“Well, you’re cool, I’ll give you that. But you’re also kind of awkward,” Clarke grins when Lexa openly shrugs at her words. “No, you’re very awkward. In a cute kind of way.”

 

At that, Lexa is unable to stop the redness from spreading across her cheeks, which makes her stuff her mouth with popcorn to try and cover it up. She knows that’s not working, if Clarke’s laughter is anything to go by.

 

“It wasn’t my intention to make myself look… unapproachable.”

 

“Eh, same.” Although her indifferent shrug gives nothing away, Clarke’s beaming on the inside. She played her cards amazingly, now she just has to wait and hope she’ll be able to have more interactions with Lexa. Friendly interactions, 

 

As Lexa opens her mouth, her words are left unsaid by the interruption of Octavia and Raven, who don’t seem to mind coming uninvited into Lexa’s room and throwing themselves on the bed with them.

 

“Damn, I’ve been trying to hook you on Orange is the new black for months,” Raven gasps at Lexa. “Are you seriously telling me that blondie here got you watching it before me?”

 

Clarke sticks her tongue out at her and Lexa rolls her eyes. “Do you want to watch the next episode or not?” Lexa asks. She has to admit that the first one wasn’t that bad. She could keep watching a few, if Clarke wanted. And also Raven and Octavia because, apparently, they came to stay. She notices with a sigh that Raven has already pressed play, and Octavia has taken over the popcorn bowl. Out of the corner of her eye, Lexa catches Clarke watching her, as if looking for an explanation she knows she won’t find. Lexa gives her an almost hesitant smile, but relaxes when Clarke smiles back and leans closer to her.

 

* * *

 

Of course, out of the twenty students in her class, she would be stuck with fucking Murphy for a project that is thirty percent of her mark. It’s all Miss Tsing’s fault. Clarke knows her teacher has it out on her, she’s completely sure. Monty thinks that it’s because she’s the headmaster’s pet, but honestly, she’s every teacher’s pet at school. There are a lot of things Clarke Griffin is perfectly capable of doing, and being liked by adults in charge is one of them.

 

Except when it comes to Tsing, which is a shame, because Biology is her favourite subject, but the teacher makes it very difficult for her to give a damn. In her defense, Tsing is kind of creepy, even her mum has agreed on this. And Abby would know, if the number of times she has had to meet with Tsing to talk about Clarke’s behaviour in her class are any indication.

 

Usually, Clarke would let it go when Tsing decides she wants to pit everything against Clarke in order to escape the pathetic life Clarke thinks she must have. And really, she doesn’t have any evidence to prove her otherwise. But putting her and Murphy as partners in a project that counts nearly have of her final mark? Hell no.

 

Clarke’s marks are impecable. Okay, she may not be the role model student her teachers think she is, but the point is that they believe her to be, so they love her. Plus, she’s smart. She’s fucking smart. And honestly, that’s why Tsing hates her so much. (Whatever, her mother believes her and that’s all that she needs to get away with it.)

 

Finally, Murphy honors her with his presence. He sulks his way towards her, and Clarke puts her sketchbook away with disdain. “You’re late,” she informs him when he reaches her table. “Twenty minutes late.”

 

“Yeah, well, I got lost.” 

 

Bullshit. “I sent you a message with the direction. You just had to click on it and it’d bring you here.”

 

“Whatever, Griffin,” he says, making boredom loud and clear in his voice. “Told you to just come over to mine. I don’t get why you insisted on meeting here.”

 

“Shut up, Murphy. This place’s just fine. And the wi-fi is good enough.” She steals a glance at Lexa, who’s busy taking an order, and gets back to Murphy before she can notice. “I didn’t feel like stepping into your house.”

 

“You don’t seem to have any problem when there’s a party involved,” he deadpans. 

 

Clarke huffs, yeah, the reason she doesn’t have a problem when there’s a party is because there’s also alcohol in the mix, which helps. She’s not going to lie about it, but she’s also not about to tell Murphy that. “Sorry, was that a question?” She gives him a look that warns him not to carry on with this conversation. 

 

But it’s Murphy so, obviously, he ignores that. “C’mom, Clarke. There more photos of you at my place than of me. You obviously know your way around.”

 

“We’ve got a project to do.”

 

“Is it because of... that? Because of Wells?”

 

“Shut your mouth, Murphy.” She gives him a warning look, but he just stares at her in curiosity. “You don’t know shit.”

 

Murphy licks his lips, probably knowing fully well that what he’s about to say is a bad idea. “You know, a lot of his stuff is still around. I could sneak some things out for you if you wanted. It’s annoying having a dead boy’s things all over your room.”

 

“Don’t speak about him,” she snaps. “You have no right to, you’ll never be half the person he was.”

 

Murphy rolls his eyes, bored. “Don’t worry, everyone already does a nice job of making sure I don’t forget that.” He’s used to this song by now. He’s lost count of all the times he’s been told the same thing. “I know I’m just a replacement toy for Jaha to play with, but dude’s rich and I’m an orphan. I’m happy to be the replacement if I get to have a roof under my head. Besides, Jaha’s batshit crazy but he’s barely around.”

 

She almost feels remorse at his lip tight smile, but she pushes it all away. Murphy was trying to get a rise out of her, he gets what he gives. However, Clarke knows it’s not his fault that Jaha is the worst parent in the world, and she does feel sorry for Murphy’s luck. But she’s not about to tell him that.

 

“Whatever. Let’s just get on with it,” Clarke says, she almost prays for him to let it go.

 

“I’m just gonna get something to drink, okay?” It almost seems like he’s asking her for permission. 

 

Clarke nods, distractedly laying out in the table all the research. Not that she’s counting, but when two minutes pass and he hasn’t returned, she looks around the cafe. She wouldn’t be surprised if he had left, but she certainly is surprised about finding him deep in a conversation with Lexa. She frowns, recalling that she first met Raven on Murphy’s party, so maybe Lexa also knows him somehow. Then, Murphy gestures to her, saying something she doesn’t get due to the distance. Whatever he said, Lexa’s eyes find her, and Clarke offers her a tiny wave. Lexa waves back before turning to Murphy again. 

 

After what feels like an eternity, Murphy gets back to the table, coffee in hand. He’s got his signature mock on as he sits opposite Clarke. “How in the world did you manage to turn the Commander in a mess of heart eyes?”

 

Clarke frowns, what on Earth is he talking about now? “Who?”

 

“The Commander,” Murphy repeats. “Lexa. Do you two have a thing or something?”

 

“What, no. My mother is away on business so I’m staying with my kind of step grandmother, she’s fostering Lexa.” She doesn’t know why she’s explaining herself to Murphy, she doesn’t owe him any explanation, but she can’t keep her mouth from rushing into one.

 

“Ah, so you’re living with Reyes and the Blakes too, huh?”

 

She merely gives him an irritated hum. “For a few weeks, yes. How do you even know them, anyway?”

 

Murphy points to himself. “Orphan, remember? I used to go to the same school as them before Jaha adopted me. Kids in the system gotta stay together.”

 

She doesn’t know what to say at that, so she supposes that it’s a good thing Murphy can never keep his mouth shut. “So, you really don’t have anything going on with the Commander? I’ve never seen her looking at someone that way,” he says. She takes the good thing part back.

 

“I’m sorry you don’t know what friendship is, Murphy. If you did, maybe you wouldn’t assumed Lexa and I are crushing on each other just because we both like girls.”

 

“That’s not what I meant,” he says, looking at her in curiosity.

 

“And anyway, why do you keep calling her Commander?” She asks before he can even think about insinuating anything else.

 

“Old habits,” he shrugs. “Woods earned that nickname thanks to basketball. You should see her play, she’s-”

 

“I’ve seen her play,” she cuts him off. She ignores the pointing look he gives her and pushes her book to his direction. “Enough chatting. The project is not going to do itself.”

 

Finally, he shuts up and gets to work. Clarke sighs to herself, knowing she’ll have to edit over his part of the task to get a decent mark. She takes the last sip of her coffee and she casts a look towards the counter, wondering whether it’s too soon to ask for a refill already. 

 

Something, someone, behind the counter, makes her think that it’s just the right time.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, um, do i start saying how sorry i am for the long wait or...? for what is worth, it really is my intention to update more frequently, i'm just a... mess. i'm a mess. sorry.
> 
> but also, this mess would really appreaciate it if you let me know what you thought of the chapter, because your words help me greatly.
> 
> and also, last night was a hard one. i hope that, if you're feeling sad, this helps somehow. 
> 
> come find me on tumblr @ bihedaclarke


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> octavia's wild. clarke and lexa learn more about each other, raven and bellamy love o very much, and octaven bakes their feelings together.
> 
> tw: octavia talks about her abusive past, and there isn't a graphic scene, but there are mentions of child abuse (when she's talking to lincoln). be safe. (do let me know if i should be more specific in the warning or whatever)

 

Octavia’s been up for a few minutes now, just laying in bed and enjoying herself in Raven’s silent company for a moment, before she has to wake up and face yet another boring Tuesday. She doesn’t have basketball practice today, and that makes Tuesdays her least favorite day of the week. 

 

There are still a few minutes before it’s seven o’clock, the time when Raven’s alarm goes off, so she carefully leaves the room and lets her sleep calmly. Predictably, Bellamy’s still drooling on his pillow. She grabs one of her own and throws it at his face, where it lands perfectly, of course. As he grunts and starts to wake up, Octavia takes her clothes for the day and slips into their bathroom. She knows she should let him shower first, because he’s quicker and he leaves much earlier than her, and he’s going to be pissed and remind her that she took a shower last night before bed, but none of that manages to stop her from jumping inside the shower and turning the tap as hot as it can be without burning her skin.

 

Bellamy gives her the dirty eye when she finally gets out of the bathroom, but she ignores him as usual, then rolls her eyes when Bellamy’s music immediately starts blasting from the bathroom.

 

It’s early today, Octavia would usually be the last one in the house to wake up, but the prospect of having one relaxing solitary breakfast, meaning that she can eat absolutely anything she wants, appeals greatly to her. Not that she ever stops herself from eating anything, but it’s nice having the kitchen to herself.

 

Of course that wouldn’t be possible. Barbie Girl is not only sitting in her favourite spot in the kitchen, she’s also eating Octavia’s favorite cereal. Barbie lifts up her head and smiles at Octavia. 

 

“Good morning,” she says, all too cheerful for Octavia's taste.

 

“Thank you.”

 

The smile fades from Barbie’s face, but she continues eating her breakfast in peace. Whatever, Octavia thinks, she can get through this if she just ignores her. In fact, it goes well for a few minutes. Barbie minds her own business, Octavia eats her cereal, everything’s fine. Until Barbie decides to open her big rich mouth again.

 

“What do you think?” she asks, showing some cake pictures that Octavia’s not interested in looking, at all. “My mother assigned me wedding duties but I can’t make up my mind between all these cakes. I know Marcus wants chocolate, but there are so many chocolate cakes.”

 

Octavia blinks, not knowing why Barbie’s talking to her at all. She’s made it very clear that she’s not interested. Then, as she narrows her eyes at the girl, she gets it. Griffin’s trying to be friendly. Well, she can try all she wants, that’s not going to change anything. 

 

“Pick all of them,” Octavia snarks, making it clear that she couldn’t care less about this conversation.

 

Clarke laughs nervously, “I can only pick one, Octavia. If I’d known organising a wedding would be this hard, I wouldn’t have said yes to my mother so fast.”

 

“Why?” Octavia quirks an eyebrow. She smiles wryly before doing something she knows she shouldn’t do. “I thought people like you loved these things. Expensive dresses, expensive champagne… aren’t weddings like the best moment to show off for people like you?”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Octavia’s smile only gets bigger. “C’mon, how many weddings have you been to? How many times have your parents divorced and marry other people? Isn’t it like every rich girl favorite sport?”

 

Clarke stays quiet, her eyes burn like ice in Octavia’s face. And oh, Octavia’s enjoying this so much. She’s pushed Barbie’s bottoms to a mute silence. She’s dying to see how far she can take this. “Why don’t you just recycle the menus and shit?” she asks with a sickly sweet voice.

 

After a long moment of dread silence, in which Octavia struggles to contain her smirk at the serious look on Clarke’s face, the latter finally speaks, in a quiet, calm voice. “My parents never divorced,” she says, her eyes betraying nothing. “My father’s dead.”

 

Octavia nearly drops her spoon. She can’t force herself to meet Clarke’s eyes. She can’t. She’s done it again. She’s fucked up big time, and the worst part is that this time? She wanted to do it. She wanted to cause this in Clarke. Fuck. What is wrong with her? Why can’t she just keep herself from destroying things for once? She nearly flees from the table, missing the confused frown that Clarke sends her way.

 

It only gets worse when she finds Bellamy standing at the end of the stairs, looking at her with a face full of disappointment. He opens his mouth and Octavia knows what he’s about to say, she’s heard the same words every time she’s fucked up, which are more than enough.

 

Bellamy shakes his head with a sigh, then looks past Octavia’s shoulder. “Clarke, I’m sorry. I know my sister didn’t mean to─”

 

“Shut up, Bellamy!” Octavia snaps. Her brother looks at her astonished, and that only pushes the words out of her mouth harsher. “You know well enough that I did mean it so just… just leave me alone!”

 

She’s out of the house before Bellamy can register her words. She slams the door on her way out, startling Lexa as she arrives from her morning run. Octavia ignores her and starts walking. Bellamy calls after her, and she’s not walking fast enough. She begins to run then. As fast and hard as she can. 

 

She doesn’t stop.

 

* * *

 

The rest of Clarke’s days blurs in a confusing worry. She goes to school, listens, takes notes, talks to her friends. Still, she can’t stop thinking about what happened that morning. The way Octavia stormed out of the house, the paleness in Bellamy’s face as he stared at her back while Octavia kept running, Raven’s panic when she found out… She can’t shake it out of her head. 

 

She runs to Polis the minute the school bell rings, finding Vera speaking on the phone.

 

“Calm down, Raven,” Vera’s saying. “No, no. You stay at home. Bellamy and I will look around, but there needs to be someone at home, okay? She may arrive in any moment. Okay. Yes, that’s good. I’ll keep you updated.”

 

Vera finally hangs up and notices Clarke’s presence. Clarke stares at the floor, feeling guilty about the situation. “She’s still missing?” She asks in a whisper.

 

“Yes. She hasn’t been to school. And she left her phone at home, so no calls or texts.” Vera looks at her knowingly and walks closer to Clarke. She cups Clarke’s chin in her hand and gives her a tight smile. “Don’t worry, darling. We’ll find her.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Clarke says. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

 

Vera frowns, horrified at Clarke’s words. “Of course you didn’t! This isn’t your fault, honey. No one’s blaming you.”

 

Clarke swallows the lump in her throat. She doesn’t believe the woman for one second, but she’s making Vera lose her time by staying here with her. Finding Octavia is the priority now. 

 

“I can look over the book shop while you look for her,” she says. It’s the best she can offer. If she joined the search party, Octavia would probably run the other way when they came across.

 

Vera caresses her cheek softly, and it reminds Clarke of her mother for a second. “That’s great, darling. I’ll let you know as soon as there are any news, okay?”

 

Clarke nods. Vera grabs her purse and leaves, and Clarke spends the rest of the afternoon with her eyes glued to the door, wishing that every new client that enters is Vera, back with news, or Octavia, though she doesn’t know if she’d actually liked that.

 

A few hours later, she decides to text Raven. She bites her lip as she does so, and taps nervously on the counter while she waits for a reply.

 

_ have you heard anything yet? _

 

_ No _

_ Will let u know as soon as i do _

 

_ i’m sorry _

 

_ don’t. it was not your fault clarke. _

_ she’ll come around, eventually _

 

That barely calms Clarke, but she shakes her thoughts away. She has work to do, and obsessing over this won’t do her any good. She actually starts doing her homework now, managing not to stare at the door every two seconds.

 

Twenty minutes later, the little bells of the door ring, and as she looks up distractedly, she’s perplexed to find Lexa on the doorstep. Lexa smiles softly when Clarke blinks at her, and Clarke can see the green of her eyes even behind her glasses. 

 

“Hello, Clarke.” Lexa walks up to the counter and lays a cup of coffee that smells deliciously like Clarke’s order. She runs a hand through her hair, almost shyly, as she plays with the loose ends of her bun. “I thought you might want some sweet relief.”

 

Clarke thinks it’s unfair that anyone looks that good when their hair is up in a half assed bun. What had Raven called it? The Lexa bun? Well, Clarke gets it now. She’s so busy taking in Lexa’s appearance that she doesn’t notice her too obvious staring until Lexa clears her throat.

 

“Clarke, are you alright?”

 

“Yeah, yes, of course.” Clarke waves a hand in the air with a laugh. “I didn’t expect to see you here, that’s all. I thought you had to work.”

 

Lexa nods. “I got out sooner. I thought you might want some company? Raven said you were anxious over the phone.”

 

Clarke crosses her arms over her chest and gives out a puff. “I texted her, like, once.”

 

Lexa shrugs. Then, she blushes as she looks at Clarke with uncertainty. “I wanted to check on you. See how you were.”

 

“I’m fine, Lexa,” Clarke bites the inside of her cheek, looking down to Lexa’s sneakers. “I’m not the one who’s missing.”

 

“Well, no…” Lexa sighs and stands impossibly closer to the counter. She nudges the cup of coffee towards Clarke and clasps her own hands together, staring at them. “But still. Bellamy told me what happened and─”   
  


“Right,” Clarke says. She bites her lip for a second, remembering what Octavia told her. Remembering what she said back. “I’m fine, Lexa.”

 

She is. Mostly. Her dad passed away a few years ago now, and Clarke does miss him. Every day. But she’s learned to live with it through the years. The pain is there, and Clarke can’t ignore it, but she can’t deal with it either. So it stays there, part of her life. And sometimes, it makes her do stupid things. Like that morning, when she spat those words out like they were nothing, like they meant nothing.

 

She knows Lexa’s not convinced, but Clarke’s thankful that she doesn’t push further and seems to drop the conversation. They settle in an uncomfortable silence that Clarke can’t bear, so she pretends to go back to her homework, even though her eyes keep snapping up every second to steal a glance at Lexa, who’s now walking around the shelves. 

 

It’s the closest thing to magic Clarke’s ever felt. The way Lexa slowly slides across bookshelves, stroking the spine of the books with her index finger, as if greeting them, talking to them. She stops more than once to grab some particular book and read the cover, to decide whether to return it to its place or keep it. Sometimes, she chuckles to herself at something she’s read. Other times, she frowns, and tilts her head to the side, narrowing her eyes at the book. She always keeps the books she frowns at, and Clarke’s left amazed and yearning, once more, for a new canvas to reflect Lexa upon.

 

There’s a small stall full of Valentine’s cards blocking Lexa’s path, and as the girl blinks in surprise at it, Clarke realises that Lexa wasn’t even paying attention to her surroundings as she walked around the shop. A childish look appears on her face then, and Clarke nearly laughs. Lexa’s giving the card stall the glare of a petulant child, and Clarke realises with a loud snort that it’s because Lexa’s never seen the stall before.

 

“They brought it in yesterday,” she explains. Lexa lifts her eyes up to her and blushes, embarrassed that Clarke has guessed what she’s thinking. “It’s for Valentine’s day. Which is Sunday.”

 

“Oh.”

 

And no, Clarke’s not surprised at all that this is brand new information for Lexa. She’s sure that, despite paying no attention to Valentine’s day, Lexa will still get asked out by plenty of girls. Lexa’s beautiful, charming when she wants to, gentle, and intelligent, and Clarke bites her lip when the possibility of Lexa being the one to ask some girl out crosses her mind. That girl would be lucky, for sure. 

 

Lexa returns to the counter, this time joining Clarke behind it, and puts her books inside her schoolbag, taking her homework out instead. The stools they’re sitting in are quite uncomfortable, and Lexa could have easily picked the comfy blue couch by the window, a spot that Clarke herself loves. Besides, the short space the counter provides them with has their elbows touching more than once, and they have to bend over to properly do their homework. Despite all, as the side of her leg brushes against Lexa in their small nest, Clarke’s inexplicably happy about this turn of events.

 

They work next to each other in silence, until their peace is broken by the arrival of a client. He’s young, possibly the same age as them, and he gives an uncertain look around the shop before he notices them. He stares at them, at Clarke, to be precise, for longer than necessary, before he shakes himself out of his own head and addresses them. 

 

“Um, I’m looking for The Crucible, I think? For my lit class?”

 

Clarke can feel Lexa’s whole body sigh beside her and she’s amused by the indignation that she knows Lexa’s feeling right now. She watches as Lexa gets up, before Clarke can type the book’s name in the computer, and mutters a soft “I got this” to her, then wanders off behind some bookshelves.

 

She’s back immediately, but she’s given the boy enough time to examine the Valentine’s cards. He eyes them and finally decides on picking one, walking towards Clarke with big eyes. 

 

“I’d also like this,” he says, laying the card towards Clarke. “If you’re willing to have it?”

 

His voice is sweet, and it matches his soft, brown eyes. He’s straightforward and Clarke likes that. It almost does the trick to charm her, and she smiles gently at him. He’s handsome, and has just ask her out with a Valentine’s card in which a teddy bear is drawn.

 

“Sorry. I’m not interested,” Clarke says, after a long pause. 

 

She really isn’t. She hasn’t dated anyone in months and, honestly? She’d prefer to keep it that way. She’s glad that she ended up in good terms with Finn, but she’s not about to jump in a relationship when she could be happily single and hook up with whoever she wants to. Hooking up is always fun. 

 

The boy shrugs the rejection away with a smile. “That’s cool. Had to try, though, you’re very beautiful,” he says, and the sincerity brings a smile out of Clarke. “I’ll keep the card, anyway. My little bro will like the teddy picture.”

 

Lexa, who has been quiet during the whole exchange, charges him and waves him off, and she doesn’t relax until the shop is client-free again. However, she’s still not satisfied. She goes back to her homework and tries to focus on it, but the presence beside her makes it difficult to think about anything other than how short of a distance there is between her and her partner. A short distance that’s Lexa’s own fault. God, what had she been thinking? She should have sat on the blue couch by the window, she always sits there.

 

Unable to keep herself from continuing that train of thought, it crosses her mind that Clarke might not want her to be that close at all. Maybe that’s why she’s so quiet, because she doesn’t like Lexa’s proximity but is too nice to say anything. But why would she not want to be near Lexa? They are… friends. Or acquaintances, whatever, Lexa’s not sure. But she does know that Clarke doesn’t shy away from her anymore, not after their conversation on the weekend.

 

Surely Lexa’s just overthinking. It’s most probable that Clarke simply doesn’t want to talk, or maybe she’s too busy with her homework to make small talk. Lexa should know that, she hates small talk. She enjoys long, comfortable silence. Yet, there she is, wishing that the girl beside her would talk to her, even if just about the weather.

 

“He was cute,” she blurts out. Lexa wants to slap herself the moment she realises that, not only she’s actually trying to make small talk with Clarke, but she chose no other topic than the boy who just asked her out and got rejected. And yes, there’s a reason Lexa doesn’t do small talk.

 

“Yeah,” Clarke shrugs and Lexa frowns, her brow deepening when she feels relieved and disappointed at once. Disappointed that Clarke didn’t try and carry on with the conversation; relieved, she doesn’t know why.

 

After a few minutes, Clarke closes her books with a thud and rests her head on top of them. Her eyes shut with abandon and Lexa realises, fighting a smile, that there’s no way Clarke’s getting anything else done today.

 

“I just, don’t really want to do dating right now,” she says, just when Lexa had forgotten about it.

 

Lexa nods. With a side glance at Clarke, she notices her still closed eyes, and she clears her throat to provide a verbal answer. “Neither do I.”

 

Clarke’s eyes snap open at that, she’s back up again faster than lighting, her eyes narrowing at Lexa. “C’mon, I don’t buy that. You must have every girl at school sighing whenever the mighty Commander walks by them.”

 

“Not really,” Lexa shrugs. “Just the ones that like girls.”

 

Clarke’s mouth hangs open and Lexa breaks her fake smug face into a grin, laughing harder when Clarke nudges her away, murmuring something that sounds like “ass” under her breath.

 

“Wait,” her laughter finally stops then, when she replays Clarke’s words on her head. “How do you know about the ‘Commander’ thing?”

 

Clarke, of course, doesn’t miss her chance to be the smug one, as she offers nothing more than a smirk to Lexa and a simple “I have my ways.”

 

Lexa’s suspicions go to Raven immediately. Maybe Bellamy, though. Definitely not Octavia. When Clarke repeats the name, just to spite her some more, Lexa pretends to pout. It’s a stupid nickname, anyway. She’s going to have a chat about it with Anya when she visits. Or not, because then Anya would only be more proud of herself for being the one to spread the stupid title. There’s no way she’ll shut about it then, and Lexa shivers in advance.

 

“For real, though,” she quirks an eyebrow at Clarke, waiting for whatever the girl has in store this time. “You were saying you’re not the dating type?”

 

Lexa shrugs. “My last and only girlfriend used to complain that when I wasn’t playing basketball, I was working, studying, or with my nose stuck in a book. That could be why.”

 

“She sounds nice.”

 

“She is. We just didn’t… click.”

 

“I get that,” Clarke nods. “Finn, my ex, and I were dating for over a whole year before I was honest enough with myself to admit that he wasn’t what I wanted. It took me awhile to accept it, because he was such a great boyfriend. He took me to The Ark on our first date.”

 

“Wow.” It’s the only thing Lexa can say. Because, really, what kind of teenager goes to the most expensive restaurant in the whole state for their first date? She gulps, the notion of Clarke Griffin having such expectations being too much for her suddenly.

 

“Yeah,” Clarke lets out a warm smile. “He arranged it to have live music for that night. This woman came, she played the piano by herself and it was amazing. She’s a prestigious artist, I bought her album in the spot and she even signed it for me.” Unaware of Lexa’s uncomfortable shifting in her seat, Clarke shrugs. “It was good times, but I’m not sad it’s over. We’re still friends.”

 

Lexa nods, distractedly. As Clarke moves on to tell her about that time Finn took her to Paris during Pride, Lexa unnoticeably sinks in her seat, wondering how it’s even possible that she ended up sitting beside this girl, their knees touching, and listening to Clarke’s world. 

 

A world completely incompatible with her own.

 

* * *

  
  


Right. Left. Left. Turn. Kick. Block. Right. Hook.

 

She’s breathing heavily. She’s grown a full second skin of sweat by now, and she can’t feel the heat even though she’s wearing shorts and a sports bra in the middle of February. 

 

Left. Right. Right. Kick.

 

She coughs, tries to wipe the sweat out of her eyes with her forearm, but it’s useless, her entire body is drenched.

 

“Okay, no. That’s enough.” Lincoln drops her boxing bag and steps between Octavia and it. “You’ve done enough training for the day.”

 

Octavia shakes her head and points to the ring. “I’m gonna do some rounds.”

 

“No, you’re not, Blake.” Lincoln blocks her path, and he’s much, much bigger than her, but he still nearly crumbles beneath her intense glare. “Listen, I don’t wanna know what you’ve been doing all day. But you came to my gym, already breathless, and you’ve been throwing punches for two hours. Shower, go home, rest.”

 

“I can’t go home,” she mutters under her breath, but loud enough for him to hear.

 

Lincoln stares at her while she reluctantly takes off her gloves with her teeth. Normally, she would tell whoever’s telling her what to do to fuck off, but Lincoln owns the gym, so there’s not much she can do about it if she wants to keep coming. She sits on a bench and takes a big gulp of water, then leans on the wall behind her and closes her eyes.

 

“Hey,” Lincoln joins her, and she can feel the bench slightly shrinking by his added weight. He’s a really big guy. “Wanna talk about it?”

 

“I came here to punch shit, not talk about shit.”

 

“Well, you did land some punches on me,” he’s amused and it shows in his voice, “so you might as well talk, if you want to.”

 

She doesn’t apologise, but it’s okay, he knows she didn’t mean to hurt him. And he was the one to volunteer as her punching bag buddy. He doesn’t push it when she stays silent, and they settle for the comfort that comes with watching the other people in the gym fight.

 

“I’m tired of being angry all the time.”

 

It’s a whisper. Lincoln has to look at her to make sure it came from her, and her tired, now opened, eyes give him the answer he needs.

 

“Why are you angry?”

 

“I don’t think I know that anymore.”

 

“Why’d you start being angry, then?”

 

She doesn’t answer this time. Her eyes look forward, but he doesn’t think she’s seeing anything at all.

 

“Go take a shower, okay? You stink, Blake.” He gets up and gives her the softest of kicks in the leg to get her attention. “And I’m gonna take you home afterwards. No buts.”

 

She sighs and nods, and she’s grateful to have her own locker at the gym, because she left home empty handed. She hasn’t texted or called, and she’s been missing all day. Fuck. She’s going to get in so much trouble for this.

 

Everything she does from that points makes her feel numb. From the shower to Lincoln’s car. She replays the events of that morning nonstop. Clarke’s face, Bellamy’s face, Clarke’s face, running. She kept running. Lost track of time. Sat on a bench in a park when her legs were about to give out. Sat there, she doesn’t know for how long, but it was quiet, and the only other company she had all day were dogs and their owners coming to take a walk in the park. Eventually, she found her way to the gym, and so here she is now, in Lincoln’s car, and with an aching need to stop this, to speak, to change.

 

Lincoln starts the car, he doesn’t push it anymore, and Octavia makes a decision.

 

“I was kept under the floor for ten years.”

 

Lincoln stops what he’s doing, takes the key out of the ignition and leans on his seat. “The floor?” he asks, softly.

 

“Our house… it used to have a kind of hatch, whatever, I don’t know. It was barely big enough to keep me inside when I was ten. Whenever I did something… wrong… my father would force me to stay there for hours, through the night, most times.”

 

“That’s horrible,” he says, because it is. It’s disgusting, and no one, ever, should treat someone like that. And the fact that it was Octavia’s father who did this? He grips the wheel tightly, and his knuckles almost hurt from the strength. He remains calm.

 

Octavia takes in a big breath, and she shakes her shaky voice away before she continues. “He never hit my mom, or Bell. I mean, he never actually hit me.” She clasps her hands together and looks outside the window. “My mother used to say I should be grateful he didn’t split my face in half.”

 

Lincoln looks at her. “Not physically abusing someone doesn’t mean he wasn’t abusing in a different way,” he carefully tells her.

 

She goes on, and he’s not sure she’s heard him at all. But she’s opening up, and he doesn’t want that to stop.

 

“He’d say I was a mistake, a failure. He would always remind my mother how he’d forgiven her for having me, because they were broken up when she got pregnant with me. I’m pretty sure he was not my father. That’s why he hated me.” She thinks for a second, then shakes her head to herself. Something in her voice changes. “He never treated Bell like he treated me. Bellamy was always good, always perfect.”

 

Lincoln notices it, notices how her voice becomes bitter and her stare is suddenly digging holes in the glass of his car. “Are you angry at your brother for that?”

 

“No, I mean, he was just a kid. But I was just a kid, too.” She lets out a hollow laugh, and not many things have made Lincoln feel this way before. “I didn’t understand why he got toys, and why my parents went to his games, while I was sent under the floor every time I breathed in the wrong direction. I still don’t understand.”

 

“That was violence,” he says. “Violence isn’t logical.”

 

“I guess.” Suddenly, she freezes. “I had never told anyone about this before. I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking for your pity.”

 

“Good. Because you don’t have it.”

 

Octavia shakes her head. “I’d never… Bell was the one who told everyone at home… I─ I shouldn’t be complaining. We all have our shit, I─”

 

“Hey, Blake, no,” he cuts her, trying to avoid with all his might for her to put her walls back up again. “It’s okay. We’re all screwed, but it’s okay to let go. In fact, it’s a must in this life. C’mon, think, how did it feel?”

 

Octavia considers it for a moment. “I don’t know. Weird? Scary? I’m not sure. I think I regret talking about it. I don’t know why I did, I wasn’t thinking.”

 

“Don’t think, then,” he encourages her. “How do you feel if you don’t think?”

 

“Relieved?” she asks, but not to him. Lincoln doesn’t dare to speak more than necessary in this conversation she’s mostly having with herself.

 

“That’s good. You want to keep talking?”

 

He starts the car, giving more than enough time for her to think about it. He hides a smile when she does, not wanting to disturb her boost of courage.

 

“Bell got freaked out one night and called the cops, we were put in the system,” Octavia shrugs, “all that jazz. No one wanted to keep me. Everyone wanted Bell, but he started causing trouble whenever there was a chance we’d get separated.” She looks mindlessly at the people in the street, the shops, the cars. “They used to say I had anger issues.” She picks at the bottom of her sweatshirt and lowers her voice. “I’m always angry, and I try not to be angry, but then I only manage to be more angry lash out at the people I love. I think they were right.”

 

He clicks his tongue, not knowing whether he’s about to make the right choice. “I know Anya very well, we’ve been friends for years,” he says, careful, “from what I’ve heard, you’re in a safe place with Mrs Kane now. I think she’d be very supportive if you chose to seek professional help.”

 

Octavia snorts. “You know what, I was actually supposed to think about that.”

 

“You do that, then.”

 

“I guess,” she says, thinking for a moment about Lexa and what the girl told her. “Though I think I’m done talking for today.”

 

“That’s okay, champ,” Lincoln says, and she rolls her eyes, because he knows she hates that nickname. “You did very good.”

 

* * *

 

It’s late when Bellamy arrives home. He took over closing the coffee shop, and he went over Gina’s before finally getting home. He’s surprised to see the lights of the living room still on at this hour. Closing the door carefully, he ventures in to find Raven asleep on the couch, her phone laying on top of her with some game playing. 

 

Bellamy takes the phone and shakes her awake. She grumbles for a second until her eyes flicker open, and she’s frowning at him, annoyed by the light hitting her vision.

 

“I was waiting for you,” she drawls out. She sits up and palms the spot beside her. “I wanted to talk to you.”

 

Despite his tiredness, Bellamy gives in and sits down with a sigh. “I’m tired, can’t it wait till tomorrow?”

 

“No. It’s about Octavia.”

 

“Ah,” he takes in a deep breath and closes his eyes. “Has she told you anything about yesterday? Were she went?”

 

Raven shakes her head. “She hasn’t spoken much.”

 

“So I’m not the only one she’s ignoring,” he says dryly.

 

“She’s not ignoring you, Bell. She’s just not ready to talk, yet,” Raven places a hand on his shoulder and gives him a light squeeze. “Give her time.

 

His jaw clenches, hard, and if he weren’t so built up, Raven would think he’s broken it. 

 

“Give her time? Raven,” he looks at her, and she can feel the panic in his eyes. She knows that panic as good as he does. “What happened yesterday can’t happen again. She went missing for the whole day. We had no idea where she was, she could have ended up─” his voice catches, and he has to shut up to contain a sob. 

 

“Bell,” she sighs, laying her head on his shoulder. “I think you might be overwhelming her.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You’re always worrying about her, every hour of the day. And while I’ll agree that Octavia takes a lot of worrying over, especially after what happened yesterday, you need to stop thinking about where and how she is every second.”

 

“I don’t─”

 

“Yes, you do. You turned down a full ride scholarship because you didn’t want to leave town and leave her here, even though you know she’s perfectly well with Mrs K.”

 

Bellamy scoffs. “I’m her brother, I wasn’t going to just abandon her.”   
  


“You weren’t abandoning her. She wanted you to go, she wanted you to go to college. She was never worried about you not coming back.” Both of them know it’s true. It all goes back to the great disaster of last year, when Bellamy threw away his college letters and informed them that he had chosen to stay here and work instead. No one took it lightly, but Raven’s never met anyone as stubborn as the Blakes, and there was not a chance Bellamy would have changed his mind. “She knew you’d still come back to visit during holidays. She knew you weren’t leaving her, Bell.”

 

“I couldn’t have left,” he shakes his head. “How could I? She’s my little sister, my responsibility.”

 

“Except you’re your own responsibility, too. And denying yourself of doing what you think is best for her isn’t helping either of you. You can’t neglect yourself, Bell. It makes her feel useless that you don’t think she can fend for herself.”

 

Bellamy frowns and removes the curls that have found their way to his eyes. “She told you that?” He asks.

 

“She didn’t need to. It’s easy to guess if you pay attention.”

 

“I do pay attention to her,” he snaps, his indignation rising quickly.

 

“I know,” she says. “But I can read her better than you.”

 

His anger dissuades, and he speaks quietly. “Yeah,” he pauses. “I’ve alway been jealous of that, you know.”

 

Raven shakes her head. “You know O and I ─”

 

“I know.” He nudges her head out of his shoulder and forces her to get up with him. “You should do something about that. You’re only hurting each other this way.”

 

She faces away from him, walking towards the stairs. “You should start living your own life.”

 

“We’ll see.”

 

* * *

 

Considering the events of the week, it’s only logical that Raven panics when she wakes up on Saturday morning and doesn’t have Octavia by her side. It’s early, really fucking early, so it’s impossible that Octavia has left for her basketball practice already. 

 

Besides, she’s grounded, one full week of missing practice. A punishment that Octavia took surprisingly well, and that Bellamy thought wasn’t enough for the chaotic Tuesday they went through. Vera hushed him and made a special dinner for Octavia, adding that she’ll have to be at home each day after school without exceptions, but she was allowed to play in their court once she’d finished her homework.

 

And yes, Octavia has taken it pretty well, as far as Raven knows, because she hasn’t been talking much since Tuesday, and maybe everyone in the house is going a bit mad due to the absence of Octavia’s constant bickering.

 

Raven has been doing her best to give some space to Octavia, and it’s not that she’s been pushed away, because she really hasn’t, Octavia still requires her company as often as always, but she’s much more quiet than usual.

 

Octavia’s phone is on her nightstand, she checks with a relieved sigh, so she can’t have gone very far. Not at all, in fact, Raven finds her in the kitchen, a mess of powder and the smell of chocolate surrounding her. 

 

“It’s that cookies I smell?” Of course it’s cookies. Chocolate chip cookies homemade by Octavia, Raven’s favourite (both, the cookies and the chef). She could recognise that smell anywhere. “Better be my Valentine’s present.”

 

Octavia feigns ignorance for a second, but Raven can see through her, in the way she nearly adds the wrong amount of sugar. She coughs nervously. “They’re for Clarke, actually.”

 

Raven walks up behind her, hiding her smile. “For Clarke, huh?”

 

“Yeah. It’s a sorry gift.”

 

Raven’s hands gently find their way to Octavia’s waist. She squeezes Octavia’s sides gently, feeling her front pressed against Octavia’s back as Octavia leans into her, her hair tickling Raven’s face. “I mean, I dunno about blondie,” Raven whispers, her voice suddenly too rough, “but if someone gave me these delicious cookies…”

 

“There are enough for you, Einstein,” Octavia says.

 

Octavia’s hair is sticking to her neck, and Raven doesn’t have to ask to know that the girl forgot to tie it up before she got her hands dirty, literally, and gently starts gathering every lock, until she manages to form a proudly messy ponytail.

 

“Of course there are,” Raven smiles into Octavia’s now naked neck. “Where’s my apron?” She finds it in the third drawer and puts it on. It’s a great one, a purchase Raven will always be proud of. It’s a picture of a kitchen, full of mechanic tools instead of kitchen ones. Octavia had called her a nerd when she saw it for the first time. “Well, these cookies aren’t getting done by themselves.”

 

They are always great when they’re working together. Octavia works the size of the dough, and Raven shapes it, in a comfortable silence. They’ve done this many times before. Enough for Raven to know there’s something else going on, in the way Octavia bites her lip too tightly and her shoulders are too tense as she works her hands on the dough.

 

Raven moves behind her again. This time, her hands pass Octavia’s waist, it’s not their destination. They stroke Octavia’s arms on their way, until they get to her hands, and get to work alongside them. She rests her forehead against Octavia’s nape, and lets Octavia’s hands take the lead.

 

“If Mrs K saw us baking together, she’d probably have an aneurysm,” Octavia says, quietly.

 

“You’re the one who’s always starting flour fights.”

 

“You’re the one who takes it too personal when the tiniest bit of flour stains your clothes.”

 

“I think you and I have very different opinions on what tiny means.”

 

Octavia hums, grabbing a new ball of dough and working on it, entranced by the way Raven’s hands mix with hers, and the way Raven‘s breathing hits on the baby hairs of her nape, and the way Raven’s lips slightly touch the beginning of her back.

 

“I think I need, no─ I want help,” Octavia whispers. “Professional help.”

 

Raven’s movements still for a second, but the surprise soon wears off, and she skillfully continues working. “A therapist, maybe?” she asks.

 

“Yeah.” Octavia’s voice is shaky, and Raven kisses her shoulder when her whole body shivers.

 

“We could do some research online, to find the perfect one. Unless you want to do it alone, of course,” Raven says. “Or maybe you could ask Lexa for advice.”

 

“She’s the one who first suggested it, actually,” Octavia admits.

 

Raven arches an eyebrow. “Lexa suggested it?”

 

“A few days ago,” Octavia nods. “When we were fighting. In a very Lexa-way, of course.”   
  


Raven relaxes at that. “Am I the first one you tell?”

 

“Yeah. Well, not exactly. Remember Lincoln?”

 

“The cool trainer slash gym owner?”

 

“Yeah. I told him after, uh, what happened on Tuesday,” Octavia says. She feels Raven tense behind her, and she rushes to explain. “I don’t know why, or how. I really don’t. I was really upset, and once I started talking it just… felt easier to continue.”

 

Raven nods gently, nudging her to go on.

 

“I told him about the stuff with my parents and all that.”

 

Raven’s taken by surprise at that. She hasn’t ever heard about Octavia’s childhood from anyone other than Bellamy. Octavia’s never spoken a word about it to her. Suddenly, she feels a rush of affection towards Lincoln, for providing a safe space for Octavia. “That was very brave of you, baby.”

 

It’s not the first time they’ve exchanged that particular term of endearment, but it’s not a common thing for them, and it still sets both of their hearts racing.

 

“A part of me wanted to take it back,” Octavia admits. “Tell him it was a joke and that I was messing with him.”

 

“Did he say shit to you?” Raven asks hastily.

 

“No. No, he was great,” Octavia rushes to explain. “I just can’t help feeling that way. But also, I felt relieved, mostly. Like I let go of a bit of heavy weight, you know?” Raven nods, and Octavia knows that she gets it, and talking to Raven is always, always, easy. “I think I’d like to do it again. With a professional.”

 

Raven runs her thumb over the back of Octavia’s hand, mixing flour with flour. “That’s really great. I’m very proud of you, O.”

 

With a trembling intake of breath, Octavia puts the tray of cookies in the oven, and turns around, looking into Raven’s eyes for the first time that morning. She doesn’t know how she’s managed to make it this far in the day without doing that sooner.

 

Raven breaks the contact, and her eyes drift down, to lips slightly stained with powder. She wants to wipe it off, but her hand stops midway, when she realises that she’ll only end up staining Octavia even more. Her mind comes up with more than a different way to wipe the flour off without using her fingers, and she decides against all of them.

 

It never feels like the right choice.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, so, there it is. an angsty chapter, and though this is a foster home au, angst it's not going to be the focus of it, rather how the kids overcome their struggles and get back up on their feet, no matter how long it takes. so from now on octavia's really in the path to get better and heal.
> 
> i know there was very little clexa :(!!! next chapter includes valentine's days, and there are cookies to be given, and there's going to be a lot, a lot of clexa. (and i really hope i don't take as long as i did to update this, i'm so, so sorry)
> 
> anyways, if you take the time to leave a comment with your opinion i'd really, really appreciate it. really, don't hesitate.
> 
> come find me in tumblr if you want to ask whatever @ bihedaclarke


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